


more than a thousand times no

by aquarius_galuxy



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: M/M, lose all your happiness in 2 hours with this cutting-edge product
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquarius_galuxy/pseuds/aquarius_galuxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a boy: strong, young, handsome. Fai is... well. Nothing should happen between them. (Except it does.)</p><p>
  <em>
    <img/>
  </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you guys haven't really seen a modern AU from me before, save for Ternary. Yes, I do write these things lol. It's just that the sword/shield series is taking up so much of my time. This was greatly inspired by Drops of Jupiter, by Train.
> 
> This began as a clampkink fill... that went way, way out of hand. Because Fai. This is also a fic that is near and dear to my heart. It's not everyone's cup of tea, though.
> 
> Ratings for this fic will be bumped up to E at some point.  
>  **Warnings:** Self-esteem issues + Youou is a minor.

Fai wakes one day to a bunch of noises outside his apartment, yelling and crashes and things that are better not subjected to decent people like him. It's early in the morning; he tries to return to sleep, and can't.  
  
When he drags himself to the kitchen, glasses shoved on his nose, he hears people in the other kitchen. The kitchen faces his own, and he realizes that he can see into it now. There are three people in there, all dark-haired, two men and a woman.  
  
Rather, it's a man, a woman and a kid, who looks so tall and broad that Fai had mistaken him for an adult at first, until he saw his face.  
  
It's a handsome face. Full of promise and strength, and two coppery eyes that home in on him the moment he makes his appearance.   
  
"Got everything moved in an hour," his father says proudly to the side, while his mother (Fai assumes) stands with her hands on her hips, surveying the kitchen. The kid remains watching Fai. He's just about as tall as him. Maybe he'll be taller, once he grows out of puberty, and the thought is amazing. Fai is willowy, taller than the average man. This boy will tower over everyone.  
  
Fai is, also, unused to attention like that. He pivots away at once, but he can feel it on his cheeks and neck and ears—he is blushing. He can feel the boy staring at him, and  _why_  he is this flustered, he doesn't need to know.  
  
He crawls back into bed, can't forget those piercing eyes, and ends up taking an icy shower. That, at least, helps.  
  
  
  
  
Fai is content. He is perfectly fine living by his lonesome self, with his books and CDs and all the outdated things from his childhood keeping him company, like a faded jewel-blue walkman and the little fire engines with all their hoses and ladders in worn, intricate detail.  
  
He's perfectly fine having some friends kept at arm's length, who need to stay at arm's length because he doesn't need more blind date recommendations or advice to get hitched or get a girl or boy or whatever. He's done that kind of thing. He's had enough of it.  
  
He's tossing up some potatoes and onions in the kitchen one day when he turns around, and the boy next door is standing at his window, watching him.  
  
Fai jumps and nearly drops his spatula.   
  
"Will you stop staring," he snaps, out of embarrassment.   
  
The boy looks away. "Sorry."  
  
It only occurs to him then that he doesn't look remotely presentable—his hair is in a loose ponytail and he's wearing a too-big shirt, and he probably has ink stains on his cheeks from the night before. He even has his glasses on. No one's supposed to care. It's Saturday and he can do whatever he wants, but somebody is  _looking at him_.  
  
The boy glances over again. Fai feels like crouching down and cooking from the floor. Except he'll probably just get onions and potatoes all over himself.  
  
He isn't supposed to be this  _nervous_.   
  
He leaves the kitchen, counts to a hundred, and hurries back when he smells the onions burning. The boy is gone. Fai stirs his food up, smothers it with cheese, and flees with it.  
  
  
  
  
The family next door eats in their kitchen. Fai doesn't know why the architect who designed the apartments had to make it such that the kitchens see into each other. He glimpses the table and the backs of their heads on the off day when his schedule clashes with theirs. He avoids opening the windows, tries to sneak along the back wall so they don't see him through the glass.  
  
When he does finally open the windows for ventilation, he regrets it. The family has lunch and dinner in their kitchen, too, and he can hear every bit of their conversation in his living room.   
  
They are a family. The boy calls his parents Dad and Ma and he's still in high school. He plays on the soccer team and is doing okay with his grades.  
  
Fai sinks to the floor in front of his couch, horrified and lonely and disgusted with himself. He's been thinking about a sixteen-year-old. In his bed. At night.   
  
Fai is a dirty old man and he never knew it before this.  
  
  
  
  
He can't look the parents in the eye, but he does. He pastes a smile on and says he'll accept their invitation to dinner someday. (Fai is a liar.) They make small talk in the elevator lobby. They wave at him sometimes through the window. He waves back. He hides and wishes his lease was up so he can move out.  
  
The boy—his name is Youou—continues to watch him. Fai doesn't get over his crush. He can't. He sees Youou topless in the kitchen one day, and he stares.   
  
The boy has a fantastic physique, all muscles where Fai has none. Fai has a job. That's about all he's got.  
  
Youou senses his attention, turns around. Fai is torn between running and staring, because  _damn_ , but the boy is a sight for sore eyes.   
  
"Why do you keep running?" the boy says, standing by his kitchen window.   
  
Fai opens and closes his mouth. "I'm not," he answers quickly.  
  
Youou snorts. "You're avoiding us."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"My Ma says you want to visit for dinner, but you don't. You sneak in and out of your kitchen like some kind of burglar."  
  
"I don't," he protests.   
  
"You're a liar."  
  
And that hurts, being told by your sixteen-year-old crush that you're honestly not worth very much at all. Maybe that's the first step to ending this. Fai just wants to hide in his closet where people will stop judging him.  
  
He pulls on a smile and says, "maybe I am," and turns away.   
  
Maybe Youou says something. If he ignores it, maybe the boy will go away.  
  
  
  
  
Fai is a person with the crappiest luck, ever. He bumps into Youou in the elevator. Or rather, he's in the elevator minding his own business, when the closing doors rumble open and Youou steps in, sweaty and tall in his soccer outfit.  
  
Fai takes a subconscious step backwards, into the elevator wall. He should get out now while he can.  
  
The boy slants a suspicious look at him, hits the "door close" button, and doesn't wait for the doors to close before he asks, "what's with you?"  
  
All Fai can manage is a papery laugh. There's a last flash of bright lobby, and the elevator is surging up, taking them with it.   
  
"What do you have against my parents?" the boy demands.   
  
Fai laughs again, for the irony. "Nothing."  
  
Youou considers his words. "Me?"  
  
"Of course not." Breezily, no eye contact.   
  
"You're lying."  
  
"And you should mind your own business." Fai fixes his eyes on the floor number, wondering why it takes this long to reach safety.  
  
"Not when you keep looking like you want to say something."   
  
"I have nothing to say to you." (Or maybe he wants to say incriminating things, things like  _you look good_  and  _I want you in my bed_  and  _please do anything you want to me_.)  
  
The door opens—the sound is liberating and blessed and Fai jerks at hearing it, so keen is he on fleeing.   
  
Youou lets him out. The boy waits until he's halfway across the lobby before he closes a large hand around Fai's elbow. Fai gasps and startles, and his eyes go up and up until he meets that steady gaze.   
  
"Let me go," he pleads.  
  
"You're afraid of me," the boy says. "What did I do?"  
  
"Nothing!" Fai's laugh is a little hysterical, now. "Please. Let me go."  
  
"You wouldn't be shaking if you aren't."  
  
He looks away, tries to force his body still. Every minute he spends with Youou is just going to make the boy hate him more, and Fai is terrified of what that might mean. He doesn't want to go to prison. He doesn't want to be thrown out and homeless. "Please," he whispers, looking away. "Just drop the subject. Nothing to look at here."  
  
He just wants to be buried in a hole in the ground, be struck dead, anything but this.  
  
"Why?" Youou's stare is sharp. It cuts into Fai like a razor when he nicks bloody lines across his neck. "You're not nothing."  
  
"And you're not one to tell me who I'm not," Fai retorts, more bitter than he means to be.  
  
The boy lets go of his arm. His hand leaves an imprint of warmth, one Fai has wanted more of, but not like this. Youou would never touch him the way he craves. "Who are you, then?"  
  
He's a thirty-two-year-old with a stupid crush on a handsome boy, is who he is.  
  
Fai laughs, and it's without mirth. "It's not something you need to know. Go away."  
  
The last thing he wants is for this boy to go away, but he can't risk himself. He doesn't have very much left. All he has is an empty apartment and a broken walkman and some faded toy cats. There's so much he wants and cannot have. Or maybe he can throw himself away on this. Strip down whatever dignity he has left. Have a fling. Move out. Never show his face here again.  
  
"You're kind of pretty," Youou blurts behind him.  
  
For a long while, Fai stills. His entire face heats up, like he's boiling from the inside, and he can feel it all over—his ears, his neck, his chest. This isn't happening. Maybe he misheard.   
  
"I'm— I'm going home," he stutters. He's just going to hide and pretend that Youou actually likes him. That would work.  
  
"Hey," the boy says, when Fai drops his keys twice fumbling with them at his door. He needs his shaking fingers to cooperate. They won't. "Can I come over sometime?"  
  
Fai blinks stupidly at his keys. "What?"  
  
"Tch."   
  
When he finally turns, Youou is at his own door, fishing for his own keys. There's a lingering redness about his face.   
  
"You— You said something?" Fai asks.   
  
Youou isn't looking at him, now. "I asked if I can come over sometime," he mutters, as though he's afraid of his parents overhearing. "But it's no matter."  
  
"What?" Fai gasps. "You're nuts."  
  
"Probably."   
  
The boy disappears into his apartment.  
  
  
  
  
Fai mulls over the entire incident until he's pretty certain that all the important words have been written over by what-ifs. He's certain he screwed up somewhere. The boy probably told his parents about the nutcase next door.  
  
To be safe, Fai puts up blinds in his kitchen window. He leaves them half-closed, so the breeze carries their voices in.  
  
On the weekends, he listens to them talk during their mealtimes. It's like listening to a family drama on the radio, but without drama. The boy's father goes on business trips. His mother doesn't have very good health. Youou doesn't have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend.  
  
Fai desperately wants to see Youou's face again. Sometimes he leans over the sink and presses down on the blinds, peeking through. Sometimes he sees the backs of heads. Sometimes he sees the boy, sharp-jawed and handsome, and his heart threatens to leap through his chest. Sometimes it's just his parents, and Fai slinks away to make his own dinner.  
  
He listens in on their conversations, feeding off them. It's like having a family, but not quite. Fai gets to know their temperaments, the father's jokes, the mother's fondness for wine. Youou doesn't talk very much, but he has a sense of humor that has Fai biting on his lip and snickering.  
  
At night, when he's certain they're all asleep, Fai raises the blinds so he sees the dark of their kitchen window. It feels like a secret, baking his cookies when they're all in bed. It feels like the old days again, back when he was alone looking into an empty kitchen.  
  
Sometimes he makes cheesecakes. Other times, he rolls out apple strudels. He likes sticking his fingers into the batter bowl and licking it off, and hush about Salmonella because no one cares enough whether he lives or dies, anyway.  
  
When he's done, he lowers the blinds carefully like nothing happened, and turns the lights off.  
  
  
  
  
At work, Fai taps on his computer and chirps and is the resident gay guy. No one minds his colorful clothes and gossip and ponytail, but no one chats him up, either.  
  
He has a sketch of Youou on his desk. That's all he has of the boy. If they were to move out tomorrow, Fai would swear at himself for not having taken a photo of him.  
  
A friendly colleague stops by to ask about the sketch. Fai flaps his hand, tells her it's a crush. She giggles and leaves him be.  
  
Of course, no one actually finds out that the boy is sixteen, and his neighbor.  
  
  
  
  
It turns into a routine, all that hiding. Fai figures out when the boy's parents get home, when the boy himself gets home, and he makes sure to jam his finger on the elevator buttons so he doesn't meet any of his neighbors on the way up.   
  
For a while, it works.  
  
Then he comes home one day to find Youou leaning on his front door, waiting for him to show up.  
  
Fai punches the "door close" button, his heart in his throat and him with nowhere to run.  
  
The boy lopes over, presses on the elevator button, and the damn doors betray Fai. They slide aside, leaving him wide open to attack.  
  
Youou pauses by the elevator entrance, not stepping in. His red eyes are fixed on him. "I want to talk. Either your place, or elsewhere. Your choice."  
  
Fai's throat is dry. He coughs a laugh, asks, "are you sure you trust me?"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
_There are so many things that can happen,_  Fai wants to say, but doesn't.  _No one trusts a dirty old man. You shouldn't._  "You just shouldn't," he says. "You don't even know me."  
  
"I want to know you."  
  
Fai gapes at him. "Why."  
  
"Because." Youou shrugs. "You laugh at my jokes."  
  
He stares, and then he realizes that the boy has heard him, somehow, through his blinds. Fai's face flushes hot. "I'm a lunatic," he says. "I just laugh all the time."  
  
The elevator begins to buzz horribly, like it's going to contract a stomach cramp and eat somebody. Fai leaps out, horrified that they've kept the thing open for so long. People on the other floors are probably swearing their mouths off at him.  
  
He almost crashes into Youou, who snorts and releases the button. Big hands come up to catch Fai by his arm, though, and the elevator shuts its doors, still blaring its complaints.  
  
"You're jumpy," Youou says. His voice is low and rumbling and it sinks into Fai's chest like a warm blanket.   
  
Fai doesn't want to move. He thinks maybe he can die in peace now, but he'd rather have his fling first.  
  
"Hey," Youou says. "Your place, then?"  
  
It sounds so much like a come-on that Fai blushes again, and tries valiantly to get his mind out of the gutter. "Sure," he says weakly. "If your parents don't mind."  
  
"I told them I was visiting."   
  
They're the same height, right now, and Fai can't help but look at the boy's shoulders. They're wide, far wider than his own, and Youou's arms are strong, his hands big. He looks like someone safe to hide in.   
  
Fai licks his dry lips. "Okay. Okay. I'll... get the door open."  
  
Fai is absolute crap at getting the front door open when someone is watching him from a foot away, heat radiating ever so slightly into his arm.   
  
Eventually, Youou sighs and shoves his hand forward. "Give me the keys."  
  
Fai gives him the keys.  
  
Under scrutiny, his apartment looks awful. There're scattered pages everywhere and some paintings on the wall, and some empty mugs and newspapers from three months ago. Fai is sure that Youou's place is just as tidy as his kitchen is, and this must be a horror to step in.   
  
"Um, welcome?" He pulls the door shut behind them, feeling every bit like he shouldn't be doing this. "Would you like something to drink? I promise I won't drug you and all that."  
  
And that makes red eyes narrow at him. "What?"  
  
"Something to drink?" Fai asks again, wishing he were watching himself do this, instead of being present and making all the stupidest mistakes he can ever make. Like even letting the boy into his place.  
  
Youou thinks for a bit. "Soda."  
  
Fai brightens at that. He bustles to the fridge and pulls a can out, and grabs some wine for himself. He really needs to calm down. Maybe he needs stronger booze, instead. Alcohol is good.  
  
The boy accepts the can with a mutter of thanks, seats himself down on the couch. Fai apologizes over the state of the apartment, and the table, and he can't stop talking because he doesn't want to know how the boy will judge him for all of this.   
  
"Sit down," Youou says. Fai sits. "And shut up for a moment."  
  
Fai clutches his tumbler of wine on his lap and darts a quick look at the boy. Youou is seated calmly, legs apart, forearms on knees. Fai tries not to take up any space on the couch at all. The less of him the boy sees, the better.  
  
The silence drags on, when Youou doesn't talk, and Fai doesn't know whether he should break it. He'll probably say more stupid things and get in more trouble, and Youou will keep to his side of the building for ever after.  
  
Which will probably be for the best.  
  
"Have I shut up for long enough?" he asks, at the same time the boy says, "thanks for the soda."  
  
Fai just blinks at him. "You're welcome?" Of course, he'd rather let the boy realize that it's really not a drugged drink before accepting the thanks, but. "Why are you even here? Not that I want you out or anything, I mean—"  
  
"We don't know you," Youou says, sharp eyes pinning Fai to his seat. "You haven't done anything wrong, but you just seem so..."  
  
"Suspicious?" Fai laughs dryly, rubbing fingers into the condensation on his glass. "Is that why you want to talk?"  
  
The boy watches him. When he doesn't say anything, Fai bites his lip, smile falling away.  
  
"What do you want, really?" he asks. "There's nothing to see here."  
  
"There's you."   
  
Fai catches his breath. "Exhibit A?" he suggests.  
  
"Tch. Not like that." Youou sips from his can. His throat bobs. "I asked my Dad and Ma. You talk okay to them."  
  
"I talk okay to you. No?" Fai tries for another smile.   
  
Youou narrows his eyes. "You act like you're scared of me. I haven't even said much to you before this."  
  
"You're a big, growly soccer player. Of course I'd be scared." Fai smiles thinly, gulps more wine. It's starting to calm him, like taking stones from his heart and sinking them down to his feet.   
  
"Not to the point where you're shaking."   
  
"I'm not shaking."  
  
"Right now, you aren't." Youou watches him, and it feels as though nothing escapes those eyes. "But you couldn't even open your door right."  
  
"Well, I was feeling a little weak."  
  
The lies come easier now, when he has warmth in his belly and he's home, and he has a little more control over this situation. Later, he'll pick apart the feeling of having Youou in his apartment, when he's hiding behind the safety of these walls. Fai just has to get through this without spontaneously combusting.   
  
"Right," Youou says.  
  
Briefly, Fai wonders if it's going to take a catastrophe for him and Youou to collapse into each other's arms and kiss. He isn't going to initiate anything, so it certainly seems that way.  
  
"What do you do for a living?"  
  
Fai blinks at him, surprised. He lives and breathes the information, but he's kind of forgotten what he's told the boy's parents. "Programming. Making sure keyboards and mice run fine. You know. The back-end stuff."  
  
Youou's brows furrow. "Didn't know you need to program those. I thought you set them up and they run until they die."  
  
It almost sounds like a funny horror movie, or Fai's life, except it isn't. "Well, they're gaming keyboards," he says. "They're programmable, and occasionally they run into issues. Stuff like that."  
  
The boy looks around his apartment, at the bits of paper and drawings around, and furrows his brow. "You don't seem the type."  
  
He doesn't seem like a dirty old man, either, but he is. Fai shrugs. "I don't seem a lot of things." And on an impulse, "what do I seem like to you?"  
  
It inevitably draws Youou's eyes to him, and that red gaze sweeps over him in a way that has Fai holding his breath. Maybe it's the wrong question to ask. Maybe Youou's answer will flay him alive and he'll die and that'll be all there is to Fai Flourite.   
  
"You seem okay," is Youou's measured answer. "Scared of me for some reason."  
  
"I'm not scared," he says.  
  
"I don't think you sit that way when I'm not around," the boy says, and Fai has to wonder what else Youou has gleaned of him, that he doesn't know.  
  
"Well." He clears his throat, drinks more. "Maybe I'm just stiff."  
  
Youou rolls his eyes.   
  
"What about you," Fai says, to take the attention off himself. "What do you do?"  
  
"Soccer. I'm in high school."  
  
Of course, Fai already knows that, but he pretends not to. "You train a lot," he says. Allows himself a little look at Youou's legs. The boy has beautiful legs. "It must be tiring."  
  
Youou shrugs. "It's not that bad."  
  
"What's bad, then?"   
  
"The essays. Tell me why we have to discuss whether a third recycling plant is necessary. Or why we even need to argue about fossil fuels. Why a third world war is bad. Fuck."  
  
Fai snickers. He can't help it. It starts off as a quick breath, and he's biting his lip and turning away so Youou doesn't look.   
  
Of course, the boy does. "What's so funny?" he protests, all indignant.  
  
"You are." He's so tickled that there's a flush creeping up his cheeks, and Fai wishes he has a hoodie on so he can hide his face. "Oh, the way you talk."  
  
"Huh." Youou watches him, and Fai tries his level best to straighten his expression. It doesn't work very well until he realizes that the boy is actually grinning, a twitch of his lips.  
  
Fai's stomach swoops down into the couch. He blushes. Because that's the very thing he wants to do in front of his crush. "Um. It's the wine. Really."  
  
Surprisingly enough, Youou isn't put off. He continues to smile that half-smile. Fai doesn't know what to do with himself. He sits stunned in his couch, cradling his wine and wishing he were good enough to say something worthy.  
  
They try a few awkward forays into conversation. It doesn't really go well—Fai is reluctant to reveal too much about himself, and Youou isn't familiar enough with the IT industry to ask about very much at all. He does inquire about the education needed to pursue programming, though. Fai tells him it's a long road of learning many languages, except he'd be talking to computers instead of people.  
  
"I wouldn't mind," Youou says, drawing another surprised laugh from Fai. "People get tiring."  
  
"Like me?" Fai blurts. He can't help it. He doesn't want things to hurt... and so hurts himself pre-emptively.   
  
"Why do you think so little of yourself?" Youou asks. That stare is back on Fai, calculating, and Fai looks away. He shrugs. "It's why you've been so scared, isn't it. You keep trying to hide."  
  
Fai's smile stretches brittle. He turns away from the boy, mutters, "maybe you should go."  
  
Youou looks at him for a long time. "I'll go if you want me to. But that doesn't solve anything."  
  
"There's nothing to solve." Fai drains the last of his wine, feels it sit warm in his belly. "I doubt a sixteen-year-old can solve any of my problems."  
  
Youou shuts up. He sets his empty can on the coffee table, eyes narrowed.   
  
There's a sharp thing twisting in Fai's gut. He tells himself,  _I hope you're happy now._  To Youou, he says, "well, was that what you came here for?"  
  
"Maybe." Youou stands. He takes himself to the door, and Fai trails reluctantly behind. "My parents want you to come over for dinner sometime. Like next weekend if you're free."  
  
Fai's gaze slips away; he doesn't want to see Youou, if he can. Nothing good will come of this. "I'm busy."  
  
The boy leaves.  
  
  
  
  
When the door is shut and locked, Fai takes the flimsy can and hurls it into the kitchen bin, teeth clenched, angry with himself.   
  
He can't do anything right.   
  
  
  
  
Two days later, he finds a little plastic bag on his doorknob.   
  
There's a pen for drawing in there, one he already has, and his heart leaps.   
  
With the slow seep of wine out of his system, he had regretted—not being nicer, not agreeing to dinner.   
  
He takes the pen to work with him, doodles a boy kicking a ball around, playing with his dog. He brings the sketch home with him and leaves it in the plastic bag hanging on his door.  
  
  
  
  
By the next morning, the drawing is gone.   
  
Fai thinks he knows where it went. He doesn't want to think too hard on it, though, so he convinces himself that the cleaner took it away. If it makes somebody happy, he's fine with it.  
  
He leaves another drawing (a ninja) before he goes to work, and one (a puffing train) when he gets back. The ninja sketch is still there, so Fai doesn't bother doing another sketch for when he heads out the next morning. By then, both sketches are gone.  
  
He kind of feels bad then. He digs around in his pockets, finds a piece of candy. He drops that into the plastic bag, hopes for the best, and leaves.  
  
When he returns late from the grocery store, hands full of market bags, he finds a note in the bag next to the untouched candy.  
  
_Don't like sweets._  
  
He flushes hot and cold, embarrassed. The boy—and there is no doubt that it's Youou—had asked for soda. Is candy that much different?  
  
He bites his lip, fishes both note and candy out, and drops a bar of semi-sweet chocolate into the plastic bag, one he had intended for baking. To be safe, Fai adds the little bottle of aftershave he's got for himself. Everything else he's bought from the store either can't keep in the open (ice cream), doesn't seem appropriate (a bag of carrots) or is just weird (toilet paper).  
  
He is a mess of rustling bags when he fumbles his way into the apartment, but his heart is calm.   
  
  
  
  
When he opens the door the next morning, the aftershave is gone, but the bar of chocolate is still there. There's a torn note and an alcohol-based marker in the bag.  
  
_I'm lactose intolerant. Didn't know which colors you have already._  
  
Fai grabs the plastic bag and brings it in with him, blushing ten different shades of red. At the back of his mind, he's imagining what Youou smells like when he's cleaned up, because Fai really, really likes that brand of aftershave.   
  
For now, he clutches the new marker to his chest, smiling stupidly. "You didn't have to get me a marker, you silly boy," he murmurs to himself. "These things are expensive."  
  
He draws a quick sketch (a monkey on a boat) with a pen and the marker, and adds a line:  _Quit spending money on me._  
  
With that, he shuts the door behind him and leaves for work.  
  
  
  
  
He gets home late to find a note, accompanied by nothing else.  
  
_Fine._  
  
Fai is surprised that they're even talking, considering how he'd all but chased the boy out. Youou has bold, strong writing, pressing lines through the torn notebook paper. He delights in tracing them, wondering if that grip is just as firm (because yes, yes, he still desires the boy, and the thought of aftershave does not help at all).  
  
_I'm sorry you can't enjoy sweet desserts and cakes,_  he writes.  _I would have loved to bake you some treats._  
  
It's a lot easier communicating through the written word. He doesn't have to deal with Youou watching him, and he can giggle and smile to himself without being watched. It's kind of nice.  
  
Fai looks up lactose-free recipes on the internet and sets to trying his hand at them. The last thing he wants to do is poison the boy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... yeah, it's one of _those_ tropes lol. FWIW, the husband and I actually have an age gap far greater than this. But yes, Youou is still a minor. I know that. And the Fai here is really more of Yuui, but let's just run with their names as is.
> 
> This was written in 1 month. 51k words, 10 chapters. Because Fai is Fai, and they are both idiots. LOL


	2. A Dinner

They fall into a routine of sorts, this message-leaving at Fai's door. In the mornings, Fai tucks a square of a sketch into the rumpled plastic bag. Sometime in the day, the sketch is taken away, replaced by a note. He pushes a second drawing into the bag when he gets home from work, tired and sleepy-eyed and fluttery when he reads quickly over Youou's message.  
  
He shouldn't be this far in over his head, but he is.  
  
The cubicle walls around Fai's desk are pinned with notes. They are the terse ones, the ones that tell no story to the passing colleague. Fai fills their corners and edges with little doodles, a stern teacher to ("what's your favorite subject?")  _Math_  and tiny bowls of rice to ("what do you like to eat?")  _homecooked food_  and two kittens chasing each other around ("have you had pets?")  _some cats_.  
  
It's two weeks before he gathers up the courage to write,  _I think I might be free for dinner. This weekend._  
  
And of course, having the luck he does, the door opens some feet away just as he's tucking the note into the wrinkled bag.   
  
His heart shoots up and lodges in his throat, and he yanks his own door shut. He needs to go to work, not hide in his apartment.  
  
Feet away, Youou steps out of his home with his father.   
  
The two look very similar, but the father has maybe ten years on Fai and crow's feet at the corners of his eyes.   
  
Fai cannot,  _cannot_  imagine calling this guy  _Dad_. He also cannot imagine these parents letting him anywhere near their son.   
  
(Fai is harmless but kind of really  _old_.)  
  
"Hello," the father says with an easy smile. "Haven't seen you around for some time, Fai."  
  
"I've been busy," Fai answers breezily, just like he talks to his colleagues at work. People don't look closer when he smiles. "But I think things are finally letting up this week!"  
  
"That's great. You should join us for dinner sometime, you know. My wife loves having guests over."   
  
He can't help glancing at Youou. The boy had looked briefly at the plastic bag on his door, but he makes no move to step forward for it.   
  
"Perhaps I will," Fai says, edging towards the elevator. He really, really needs to get to work. Not hide from these people. (He hasn't seen Youou in so long and the boy makes his heart stutter. But there is the added unease of talking to his father, and— This just needs to end.)  
  
"How about Saturday?"   
  
And damn himself, because he chirps, "sure!"  
  
The elevator takes forever to arrive. Youou lingers behind Fai and his dad, ever watchful, and Fai feels the back of his neck prickle.   
  
"You've had that bag on your door for some time," the father says. "Youou says you leave drawings for him."  
  
Fai just wants to die, or sink into the concrete, or fade off into nonexistence. Maybe he should dive back into his apartment and never emerge again. "Really?" he asks instead, daring to flick a look at the boy. Youou's gaze slides away.   
  
"He's such a fan," the father says, turning to clap his son on the shoulder. "He has some on his wall. On his desk, above his bed, and the like."  
  
"Dad!" the boy protests hotly, cheeks aflame.  
  
Feet away, Fai tenses. He hasn't known that about Youou. The thought makes him blush.   
  
He turns away and coughs really hard into his elbow, because there's nothing he can say to that. The coughing helps explain the redness to his face, and it helps kill some seconds until the elevator arrives, dinging innocently like it isn't Fai's greatest savior ever.  
  
"Excuse the coughing," Fai says, certain that he can do no worse than this. "Choked on some spit."  
  
Youou snorts.  
  
The space in the elevator is no less awkward. Youou and his father are both broad-shouldered; Fai is about as slender as a twig and just as easily blown away, swept off his feet by red eyes and a handsome face.   
  
It takes exactly twenty-five seconds for the elevator to reach ground level. Far too long. Fai smiles and says, "so, where are you guys off to?"  
  
"I'm headed early to work—one of the rarer days—so I'm dropping Youou off at school." The father quirks an eyebrow at Fai. "Need a ride anywhere?"  
  
(Youou is so much younger than he is.)  
  
"No, no, it's fine, really," Fai says. This is hell enough without trapping himself in a car and binding himself to certain doom. Like he isn't already going to make a fool of himself on Saturday.  
  
When the elevator chimes again, he steps back and waits for father and son to exit. Youou's father holds the door open for him instead; the boy looks and waits for him to go first. Fai hides his grimace and hurries out, backing away the moment he's liberated.  
  
"So, I'll see you on Saturday," he says, huge grin and wave hiding the bundle of nerves he is. Youou looks briefly at him, then turns to follow his father away.  
  
Fai tucks himself out of sight, glad to be alone once more.  
  
  
  
  
_Dad forgot to ask if you're allergic to anything._  
  
Fai assumes he means food. He draws a couple of quick sketches: sushi and shriveled cucumbers in a jar.  _No allergies. But no raw fish, please. Or pickles._  
  
It would be bad form to refuse those at the table. One thing he knows, though, is he can't try them and then not puke in front of everyone. So, Fai draws a sketch of himself looking really sick.  
  
A long breath of hesitation later, he adds in far tinier words,  _are these really above your bed?_  
  
Maybe they're too microscopic to read. Maybe he should scratch them off. He shouldn't be a creep and he shouldn't be asking about Youou's bed  _at all_ , but the very thought sends a shiver of heat down his spine.  
  
Before he can second-guess himself, Fai strides to his door, shoves the note into the plastic bag, and hauls himself off to bed.   
  
  
  
  
There's a telling splotch of ink at the very start of Youou's single-word reply.  _Yes._  
  
It's the splotch that gathers at the tip of a gel pen when one hesitates for too long, that Fai has started many letters off with. He imagines the boy mulling over his answer, remembers the dark tint of his face at the elevator lobby, and flushes all over again.  
  
Fai convinces himself that Youou is just embarrassed to have drawings above where he sleeps. Or maybe he doesn't like being called a fan. Fai smiles to himself. He hasn't had a fan before, and it's hard to believe that he actually has one, but the thought of it is nice.  
  
He has a fan.  
  
It's a handsome, strong boy who is very cute when he blushes, and he lives next door.  
  
Fai falls asleep with his chest full of butterflies.  
  
  
  
  
_I wish I was born a decade later,_  he writes.  
  
_Why?_  
  
Fai doesn't answer.  
  
  
  
  
Before the dinner, Fai worries. He doesn't want to go visit as an empty-handed leech, but he doesn't know what the family likes, either. He's thought about baking but— The boy can't eat things with dairy in it. And Fai's attempts at non-dairy baking haven't gone so great.  
  
_What should I bring?_  he asks Youou.  
  
_Yourself,_  is the reply half a day later.  
  
It reads like such an inappropriate proposal. Fai drags his hand over his face and tells the boy,  _I can't not bring something! I mean as a gift. You know._  
  
Youou's next answer isn't very helpful, either.  _It's just dinner._  
  
Fai groans and swears at the boy, but none of that goes onto notepaper. He thinks about the boy's parents instead, sags with relief when he does come up with something that won't go unappreciated.  
  
  
  
  
He shows up on Saturday in his best clothes and contacts. It feels more than redundant, when he's just crossing a few steps to his neighbors' home, but. He feels a bit better about himself, and he pretends that he doesn't possess any sort of a crush. That helps.  
  
Youou's parents exclaim in surprise when he presents his basket of fruit. They're handpicked, pretty—the apples are marbled with yellow and the pears smell delicious—and he can't help feeling a little smug when the boy frowns and clicks his tongue.  
  
Fai is old and he has  _manners_.  
  
He tells the boy exactly that.  
  
Youou turns away, and as Fai follows his parents into the living room, he thinks he spots a hint of pink on the boy's ears.   
  
Fai is much better with making small talk when he ignores the boy's entire existence. They talk about the weather and the economy and boring (but safe) things. Youou listens in from the shadowed hallway, and he doesn't interrupt. Fai has plenty of compliments for his mother, mostly heartfelt, and some intelligent things to say to his father.   
  
Youou's mother excuses herself to prepare dinner; Fai is left with the father, who calls his son forward to say hi. He feels his insides freeze up.  
  
Fai realizes that he doesn't know how to react to the boy in his home. And because this is "just a dinner" to Youou, he's wearing a worn shirt that curves softly over his pectorals and stretches around his biceps, and Fai smiles and gulps.  
  
He keeps his eyes very resolutely on the boy's father.   
  
They end up talking about sports. Which isn't Fai's niche, but that's okay. He gets questioned on his favorite teams and favorite sports, and he's insanely glad that he's flipped through the sports section of his four-month-old newspapers. So he knows a bit about hockey and a bit about basketball, and he knows stuff about people setting up matches and yellow cards and things like that.  
  
Youou has strong opinions about cheating in games, which raises his hackles and makes Fai smile before he even realizes it.   
  
"This kid is righteous like that," his father says proudly. "Runs in the family."  
  
"I'm not a kid," the boy protests.  
  
(He really isn't, and Fai doesn't look below his shoulders.)  
  
"What do you think of research?" Fai asks instead, so he doesn't have to voice his opinions. "Things like cloning?"  
  
He gets through the conversation alive and intact, and dinner is ready before he knows it.   
  
Youou's parents usher him to the table in the kitchen. Fai never realizes how small it is, until he's sitting with them and his knee presses into the side of Youou's thigh. And for how much he's seen them in their kitchen eating, it's never occurred to him that he would be given a pair of chopsticks and expected to eat with them, too.  
  
He looks at the bamboo sticks in dismay, picks them up, and promptly fumbles with them. "I'm sorry. I've never been able to do this properly."  
  
"I'll get you a spoon," the boy says.   
  
Fai shakes his head. "No," he protests, for the sake of the parents who have so graciously invited him over. "I'll try this."  
  
It's nowhere near easy to balance the sticks in his hand. Fai studies the way Youou eats, studiously ignoring his mouth and the bob of his throat, and freezes when a piece of vegetable almost goes flying off the table.   
  
Youou gets a spoon for him, sets it down by his hand. Fai flushes. "Sorry."  
  
The boy's parents apologize in return. Fai admits defeat and uses the spoon, feeling clumsier than he's ever been. He attempts some small talk, compliments the cook on her food, and doesn't look at anyone when he chews. At the end of it, he tries again with a limp strand of vegetable leaf.   
  
Youou sighs, reaches over. He takes one stick away, presses the other into the curve of Fai's thumb, and pushes lightly down with his fingers. "Use the inside of your thumb and your middle finger to hold this. Don't move it."   
  
The boy puts the other stick back in his hand.  
  
"This, you control with the pad of your thumb and your index finger."  
  
Even then, manipulating the pair is tough. Youou reaches forward with his other hand, wrapping it around Fai's to demonstrate, and Fai's cheeks burn bright red. He can't help it. Youou's hands are big and warm and a bit rough. He wants to sit there and revel in their touch.   
  
The boy glances at him to see if he understands, and then  _he's_  blushing too, for some reason.  
  
Fai doesn't know how to even salvage the situation. He's very good at faking it, however, so he grins at Youou's parents. "I'm sorry. I'm just really not used to all this. I even need hand-holding."  
  
"Tch. You just need to practice." The boy abruptly pulls his hands away and goes off to rinse his bowl at the sink, and Fai is left looking at his parents, unsure how to proceed.  
  
"Youou is a good boy," his mother says fondly, looking at her son.  
  
Fai just tries not to stare at his ass.  
  
"We just need to know that you have good intentions towards him," his father says, looking at Fai.  
  
He gapes, paling so much he thinks he might faint. Across the kitchen, the boy splutters. "Dad!"  
  
Fai regrets so much.  
  
"I— I— I wasn't, I didn't think— I'm just—" He stops there, because he really has nothing to say. The food has turned to stone in his stomach, and he wishes he were back home, hidden under a pile of blankets.  
  
"It's all good," Youou's dad says. "Youou's mature for his age. He can take care of himself."   
  
Which just about short-circuits Fai's entire brain.  
  
"Why are you talking about this," the boy demands, setting his things in the sink with a clatter and storming over to the table. "He's just here for dinner!"  
  
His dad laughs. "Your Ma and I figured that we may as well get some things straightened out."  
  
How long have they known?   
  
Fai stares helplessly between all of them. Youou's father looks highly amused about all of this. His mother is calm and smiling, and Youou's face is probably the only thing in the room redder than Fai's.  
  
He feels raw, exposed, and he doesn't know what to do about any of it.  
  
"Dessert?" Youou's mother offers. She's little and beautiful and graceful, and Fai knows some about her medical history—he doesn't want her to do more than she really needs, either.   
  
"No, no, I'm full," he says, which isn't a lie. "Please don't exert yourself."   
  
Since they seem to be done with dinner, Fai springs to his feet and gathers his bowl in his hands, offering to clear the parents' as well. They smile at him; he deposits all the dishes at the sink, and Youou points him away before he can start washing them.   
  
"You're a guest," the boy says. "I'll do this."  
  
"Go have a chat with Fai, Youou," his mother says. "I'll do the dishes."  
  
"The cook should relax after a meal," his father answers, getting to his feet even before she can move to do so. "You guys grab a drink and chat."  
  
Fai's brain is not having any of this. "I should be going. Sorry about the mess," he says guiltily, darting a look at the dirty dishes. "I really appreciate you having me over. Dinner was delicious."  
  
"It was great having you over," Youou's mother says, at the same time his father waves. "Thank you for the fruit!"  
  
Fai lingers long enough to be polite, and sees himself to the door. He'll be happy if this is the last time he ever comes over for dinner. Youou and his family really don't deserve to be intruded upon like this.  
  
Something catches his elbow when he's feet away from the door. Fai spins, a protest on the tip of his tongue.  
  
"Thanks for coming over," Youou says, quietly. "Sorry about my parents."  
  
Fai gulps and shakes his head. He should be the one apologizing for causing all this. "Thanks for, well, having me over."  
  
Slowly, he backs towards the exit, keeping his eyes on the kitchen doorway. There's quiet conversation and the sound of someone doing the dishes in there.  
  
"I should be going," Fai blurts. This apartment is bigger than his own, and far neater. He feels out of place here.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Youou accompanies him to the door. He steps into his shoes, which will ruin the heels, but he doesn't really care about that right now. All he wants to do is go home and hide and not show his face for a week.  
  
He feels a bit better once he's outside the apartment. Youou follows him out, pulls the door nearly shut behind him. Fai hasn't expected him to remain this close. His gaze drops to that chest like he hasn't been sneaking glances at it all night.  
  
It would be so easy to step in for a hug.   
  
He swallows, takes a conscious step back.   
  
"Hey," Youou murmurs. He leans into Fai's space—Fai freezes—and kisses him, a brief touch to his lips.  
  
Fai shoves everything about this to the back of his mind, backs away. "You shouldn't do that," he whispers, and turns, hurries to his own apartment.  
  
His keys are somewhere in his pocket, in his hands, and he can't get the right one into his door.  _Fuck._  
  
Youou watches him from feet away, not moving. Fai doesn't know if he wants the boy closer, or not. He can't decide.  
  
It's forever and a day before the door swings open in front of him, and he steps into the blessed darkness of his home, pulling in a sharp breath.   
  
Youou does not follow him.  
  
  
  
  
In his apartment, Fai shuts the door, locks it, and leans bonelessly against it, decompressing.   
  
Youou's parents had not said he wasn't welcome. Neither did they say anything about not liking him. Or that he's a bad neighbor, or that he's a bad influence on their son. They had been nice, far nicer than Fai deserves for lusting after Youou.  
  
And the  _boy_.   
  
Fai trembles and tips his head back, hoping that Youou's still not standing outside his door.   
  
The boy had looked very good. Sharp-eyed, sharp-jawed, the very picture of Fai's dreams. His clothes. His heat. That kiss.  
  
Fai thinks his heart might have molten and dripped down to his very feet.   
  
He wants more of that kiss. Heat surges down his body like he's a kid again, and he touches his mouth, still disbelieving. Youou had smelled like aftershave. Fai's aftershave.  
  
Fai groans softly, twitching and sinking down onto the floor, his pants too tight.  
  
He doesn't know what Youou's parents were trying to do, trusting their son like that. But his father is so positive that Youou is all grown up, and Fai's mind betrays him, shows him the very mature things Youou could do. His pulse throbs further down, and he threads his fingers through his hair, wishing he had the self-restraint not to do this.  
  
So maybe the boy doesn't know better. Maybe the boy really likes him. It makes his heart stumble and crash (like a cripple down the stairs) and Fai whimpers, because he could get the boy into his bed so  _easily_.  
  
They could do so many things.  
  
Fai is despicable.  
  
  
  
  
_My parents like you_ , the next note reads.  
  
He barely stops himself from crumpling it up in his hands.  _Your parents don't know what I do when I think about you_ , is what Fai thinks but doesn't write. Instead, he scribbles,  _you should forget about me._  
  
He goes to work.  
  
His reply comes quicker than he expects. Fai reads it eagerly when he gets home, tired after the long day full of distractions, and his insides squirm when all Youou writes is  _No._  
  
He really wants the boy in his bed.   
  
Fai isn't stupid enough to believe that anything can work out between them, so he doesn't even hope for it. It's nice talking to Youou, though, through all their little notes, and it feels a little more impersonal when they aren't talking face-to-face. Safer, since nothing can really happen through letters.  
  
He keeps his desires to himself. The boy will be none the wiser.   
  
(Or maybe the boy might have similar fantasies and— No.)  
  
Fai goes to bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually surprised that you guys are reading and leaving kudos on this thing :P


	3. Baking and Its Consequences

He bakes at night, when the other apartment is quiet and everyone is asleep.   
  
Fai has determined that he's safest doing things in his kitchen past midnight. Then, he raises his blinds and opens his windows so the kitchen doesn't get too muggy, and breaks out his electric mixer and flour and eggs and everything else.  
  
Sometimes he bakes cookies, sometimes he makes cakes, and sometimes he prepares his lunches in bulk so he can save some money at work.  
  
Today is a baking kind of day.   
  
Fai pulls his homemade pizza out of the oven, sets it aside to cool, and starts on a full batch of shortbread cookies, one of those he's found the recipe for on the internet, that has won awards at competitions.  
  
The soft dough falls onto his floured cutting board with a white puff of powder; he grabs it and kneads more flour in to give it a fuller body, smiling when the dough grows the slightest bit more elastic, for having only three ingredients in it—butter, sugar, flour.  
  
Maybe there's a little sound from outside; Fai cocks his head, listening, but there's no movement in the shadows of the other apartment.  
  
He shrugs to himself, thumps the dough soundly on the counter, and wonders if there's a new note at the door, or whether he'd have to wait for tomorrow for one.  
  
His fingers are still greasy when he slides the pans of dough into the oven and shuts the door on them. With the timer set, there's little to do but wait or clean up, and Fai would much rather lick the butter and sugar off his fingers first.  
  
Except it somehow escalates to scratching an itch on his stomach, and one somewhere in his pants, legitimately, and he decides to put the butter to some use while it's in the vicinity.   
  
Maybe it's kind of exciting, knowing his neighbors (the one neighbor) could wake and catch him despite his clean record thus far. Maybe Fai pretends that Youou is awake and watching him lean on the fridge, fingers curled and sliding along himself.   
  
He keeps his eyes open, ready to dive for cover if there's the slightest disturbance... but he is otherwise shaking and wet, licking his lips at the thought of the boy watching him. He imagines Youou touching himself, too, quirks a smile at that.   
  
His eyes flutter shut when he's close, teeth biting hard into his lower lip to keep from crying out, and his thrusts grow bigger and slower, wetness sliding onto his hand with every roll of his hips.   
  
Fai shudders into a silent climax, catching what he can of the mess. When he recovers enough to regain mobility, he shuffles over to the sink, pants riding low on his hips, rinsing his hands with copious amounts of soap.  
  
Something moves in the other kitchen.   
  
Fai freezes, his heart kicking into a loud staccato, eyes straining to see what it was. He pulls his pants back into place, suddenly horrified that it could be either of Youou's parents turning away in disgust. Or perhaps the boy himself.  
  
He jumps when the timer goes off; his hands are shaking when he pulls the pans out, golden-brown cookies no longer appetizing. Maybe he should avoid all of them for the next month. Or maybe he should just terminate his lease and move out tomorrow.   
  
He only remembers to lower the blinds when all his cookies are on the cooling rack. Fai buries his face in his hands immediately after, embarrassed and horrified that someone had seen him. He doesn't want to think of the distaste on the mother's face, or the disapproval on the father's. There's a sick, oily feeling in his gut, that he only succeeds in pushing away for long enough to store his food.   
  
Fai barely remembers to check for a note at his door.   
  
He almost doesn't want to. There can be no good news coming out of this, and he holds his breath, hoping that the folded drawing from the evening is still there.  
  
It isn't.  
  
There's a new note, one that's halfway sinking down into the plastic bag. He wants so badly to leave it for the morning, or only open it when he's done moving all his things into a new place, but. His hand is already reaching out for it.  
  
_That was very risky._  
  
His heart clenches in that very unpleasant way, like he's filled his chest with cold water and kicked the pump inside.   
  
The writing isn't Youou's. At least, it isn't his usual, because it's shaky, like he'd been nervous writing it, or stressed, or exhausted.  
  
Fai doesn't know what to say. His face is scorching and he's sure the boy thinks the worst of him now, righteous like he is. He has nothing to say in return. Things that seem such a great idea while he's aroused are so mortifying in hindsight, and Fai doesn't need a reminder.  
  
"Just kill me," he mutters at the note. Dying would probably be better than this torment Youou puts him through.   
  
He doesn't even know if the news will get to the boy's parents, or what they'll say to him after.   
  
Maybe it'll be better if he pretends that nothing happened at all.  
  
  
  
  
To be absolutely certain that he doesn't bump into his neighbors, Fai takes to peeking at the elevator lobby before he steps out. He doesn't answer the boy's late-night note, doesn't raise the blinds at all in his kitchen.   
  
Youou is the one to leave another message.  _Hey._  
  
Fai unhooks the plastic bag from his doorknob and sets it inside his apartment, just by the door. He doesn't want to get rid of it. There are many fond memories attached to that bag. All the same, he doesn't want to talk to Youou. He can't. The boy can afford not to be in his presence. To play on the safe side, Fai changes his schedule, too.  
  
Except there's someone in front of him when he opens the door. Youou is crouched in the peephole's blind spot, affixing another bag to his doorknob.  
  
Fai freezes, jaw hanging open.  
  
The boy looks up. His eyes sharpen; his throat works, and in that moment, Fai truly believes that he's a lion, ready to pounce.  
  
"Hey," Youou says.  
  
Fai closes the door on him. The boy shoves a hand forward, between the door and doorjamb, and Fai can't help the way the heavy door smashes the back of his hand against concrete.  
  
Youou swears. Fai jerks the door back open, horrified.  
  
He drops down to his knees, taking Youou's large hand between his own and turning it over, prodding over fine bone to inspect for breaks. Fai isn't thinking anything about himself right now. "Oh my god. Are you okay? I didn't mean to do that. I— I'm sorry. I should have looked. I just— I—"  
  
The boy shakes his head. "Wasn't hard enough to break bone."  
  
Fai doesn't believe him. He prods harder with his thumb, watching that face carefully. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Ow! Fuck, yes. I'm sure. Stop that!" Youou wriggles his hand, not pulling it away, and Fai stills, looks down to study the sore spot. As though he can really tell if there's a fracture, or anything. He can't. But he's going to trace those bones just to make sure they're fine.  
  
"I don't believe you," he says, keeping his eyes glued to that large hand, rubbing firmly down each metacarpal.  
  
Youou's face twitches when Fai reaches the one attached to his middle finger. The skin there is slightly red, a dark line where the doorjamb had been. "You don't believe me because you think everyone lies like you do."  
  
Fai doesn't answer to that. "We need to take you to a doctor," he says. "You need an x-ray."  
  
There's a slight pause. "You going to take me there?"  
  
He opens and closes his mouth, blinks at the boy. "What?"  
  
Youou shrugs. He looks a touch discomfited. "What I said. My Dad's out of the country. I don't want to bother my Ma."  
  
Fai gulps, pulls his fingers reluctantly away from the firm heat of that hand. "Okay. Okay. It's my fault. I should— I should pay for for it."  
  
The boy glances away. "I can pay."  
  
"No! That is, this is my fault." Fai straightens up too quick, wobbles on his feet. He sees the way Youou follows him up through the hazy black winking in his eyes. "Let me just—"  
  
"Are  _you_  all right?" the boy asks, forehead creased. He has one arm outstretched to catch Fai, and Fai grimaces, backs away, shaking the buzz in his head off.  
  
"Low blood pressure. I'm fine."  
  
"Tch. It's like you need more babying than I do." Youou holds his hand awkwardly next to himself. Fai frowns at it, stomach twisting with guilt. The plastic bag on his doorknob is a striped pink-and-white splotch at the corner of his eye. There's a very familiar shape at the bottom of it.  
  
"I told you, you shouldn't spend money on me," he says. "Those markers are expensive."  
  
The boy shrugs. "You weren't responding to my notes."  
  
Fai has nothing to say to that.  
  
"About the other night—"  
  
"Give me a moment to get ready. I need to call in to work," he says in a rush, turning away and fumbling for his phone. "My boss isn't going to be too happy about me doing this—"  
  
"You don't have to. I can go myself."  
  
Fai shuts up, dials his superior's phone, and leaves a message. To be safe, he sends a text message as well.  _Will be in at one, tops. Medical emergency cropped up._  
  
When it's done, he turns to Youou, who is leaning on the doorjamb and studying him. He swallows, pulls a smile onto his face. "Well, aren't you getting your things yet?"  
  
Youou looks at him consideringly. "I need to tell my Ma where I'm going. Are you gonna take this, or not?"  
  
Fai stretches his arms out for the marker when Youou tosses it at him. It bounces out of his hands and onto the floor; he winces. "When I fail less at this sort of thing, maybe."   
  
The boy rolls his eyes. "You're way too hard on yourself. Be right back."  
  
He disappears from sight, and Fai takes the opportunity to grab the marker from the floor, fishing it out of the bag. It's a shade he doesn't have—cornflower blue—and he can't help reaching for the nearest scrap of paper, drawing a squiggly line to test the give of its brush tip. It works beautifully.  
  
When Youou doesn't seem to be appearing in his doorway anytime soon, Fai turns the squiggly line into a sketch of a pig with a flower in its trotter, adds a banner beneath, and writes  _Get well soon_  on it.  
  
He thrusts the drawing at the boy when he appears at Fai's door, eyebrows raised. "Here. A preemptive card."   
  
Youou snorts, but he takes the drawing, looks at it, and slides it into his pocket. "Where are we going?"  
  
"To the Reed Urgent Care place. It's open twenty-four hours," Fai answers, pulling the door shut behind him. "You have your documents with you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They wait for the elevator in silence. Fai glances sidelong at the boy, remembers his mother. He grimaces. "Did you tell your Ma that I crushed your hand? She's going to hate me now."  
  
The boy scoffs. "No. I said I injured my hand and am going to the doctor. She wanted to look at it."  
  
Fai cringes, embarrassed. "Your parents are really going to hate me. If they don't already."  
  
"Why would they hate you?" Youou's eyes are on him, and Fai is suddenly unable to meet that gaze. He doesn't want to dredge the past up.   
  
"No reason. Next question, please."  
  
"It's because of that night—"  
  
"Will you stop talking about that," Fai snaps, heat rising high on his cheeks. The elevator doors slide open; he hurries in, keeps his face turned away from the boy.   
  
"I didn't tell anyone."  
  
But it means Youou was  _there_ , and he  _saw_. Fai gulps. It sounds very loud in the silence of the little confined space. He just wants to curl up and bury his head somewhere. Like an ostrich. Except ostriches don't actually bury their heads in sand.  
  
"Look, everyone jerks off at some point."   
  
His face scorches so hot that his skin might actually peel off. Fai turns and glares at the boy, aghast.  
  
But there's a hint of red riding on Youou's cheeks as well.  
  
"Well, have  _you?_ " Fai blurts, because he may as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb. An elevator is just about the most private place they can be for such a conversation, anyway.  
  
"It's not like you need to ask," the boy mutters. He doesn't look at Fai.   
  
"Were you? That night?" Fai asks. He doesn't need to live anymore, thank you very much.   
  
The elevator doors slide open, and he's striding out even before the boy can answer. He doesn't need to know. Just the mental image is too much for him to handle. This conversation is off the records. It never happened. Fai will just have to continue life without ever knowing.  
  
"Do you want your answer, or not," Youou says behind him, two feet away.  
  
Fai only continues to walk because his legs are taking him to places. "This is not appropriate."  
  
"So's what you did."  
  
"Will you quit harping on it," he snaps, glancing around to see if anyone heard. But they're two on an empty sidewalk, and few cars rumble by next to them.   
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good."  
  
"I meant, my answer is a yes."  
  
"I understand that."  
  
"No, you don't." Youou is next to him, bumping shoulders, and Fai glances over. Red eyes slant a meaningful look at him. Fai stops breathing.  
  
No, he is most definitely not thinking about this. He swallows hard, blinks rapidly, remembers to keep planting his feet forward. "Why are you doing this to me?" he groans. "This conversation did not happen. None of this did. I am innocent."  
  
Youou scoffs. "Then I'm a fairy sheep with a wand."  
  
Fai snickers, surprised. He can't help it. "If you're a fairy sheep, then I'm the Big Bad Wolf."  
  
"You? A wolf?" The boy looks dubiously at him.  
  
He sighs, amusement falling away. "I am an old man, you know. You shouldn't— You shouldn't be doing any of this with me."  
  
"You don't look that old to me."  
  
"I'm twice your age, Youou," Fai says. The boy's grow wide. Fai doesn't say his name often—it feels too intimate, calling someone by name. Especially someone he likes this much.  
  
"My Ma's five years older than my Dad. In case you didn't know." The boy shrugs, looks ahead, where the traffic light blinks green. "Age doesn't matter."  
  
"It does when you're still a minor," Fai hisses. "This is not good for you. I'm going to take you to the doctor, bring you home, and never see you again."  
  
And it stings, but Fai is certain that he'll get over it.  
  
Youou frowns. "We haven't done anything. You're just taking me to the doctor right now."  
  
"And we won't be doing anything." Fai shuts his mouth, keeps walking. He looses a slow breath of relief when the black-lettered sign of the urgent care place pushes into view, scanning the parking lot. There don't seem to be many cars there right now.   
  
The boy is silent all the way until they cross the asphalt. "Will you go out with me?"  
  
Fai almost trips.  
  
He flails; Youou reaches his hand out, winces when Fai grabs it. Fai drops his hand like a piece of hot coal and backs away.  
  
"Look, all I can do is hurt you. We're just neighbors. I'm moving out next week."  
  
The boy looks sharply at him. "You are?"  
  
He gulps. He'll message his landlady later. "Yes. I am."   
  
"You're running away, then?"  
  
Fai yanks the heavy glass door open, stares at the boy until he steps in first. "I'll wait at the seats. You know how to do the registration stuff by yourself."  
  
"Course I do." Red eyes linger on him; Fai turns away, grabs the first magazine he sees and sets himself heavily down in one of the plastic chairs in the corner.  
  
The magazine doesn't help. There's a bunch of women in bikinis in it, and while he likes all the colors, they don't have anything with halfway decent designs. Neither are all the sex tips useful. The advice is stuff he already knows (and Fai knows his own situation well enough to write an Aunt Agony column on it), and the recipe pages catch his attention only briefly.  
  
Disappointed in himself and the world, he drops the magazine into the chair beside him, pulls his phone out, and checks his work email. He probably should have brought his laptop along.  
  
Youou takes forever at the counter. Fai darts a glance at him, then another, and frowns. Do they take this long to process patients spilling blood everywhere, as well?  
  
He finally puts his face in his hands and closes his eyes, pretending he's somewhere far away.  
  
Someone drops into the seat next to him.  
  
"Cosmo?" Youou asks.  
  
"Bunch of crap, if you ask me," Fai answers into his palms. He pulls his head up. "Done with registration?"  
  
The boy rolls his eyes. "Yeah."   
  
"How does your hand look?"  
  
Youou raises it up slightly; Fai winces when he spots the swelling right in the middle of his hand.   
  
"It might really be a fracture," he says. His stomach is twisting all over again. He can never do anything right.  
  
The boy shrugs. "It's not so bad. 'Sides, it's not my dominant hand."  
  
"Well, that's a— That's a good thing."   
  
He can suddenly imagine a number of things Youou can do with his hand, things that are not appropriate to think about anywhere except at home. Fai suppresses his urge to groan, closes his eyes instead. He doesn't want to be here.  
  
"I can still play soccer," Youou says. "Just can't do some of the training if it's a fracture."  
  
"Right. I'm sorry."  
  
"Tch. Stop that already." Youou looks askance at him. "You're an idiot."  
  
"So are you."  
  
"So we're both idiots. So what?"   
  
There's a lady in a bright red sweater in the same row as they are, and another lady, hair in a mess, trying to comfort a crying kid. There's an older man in the row by the wall, browsing the newspapers. Fai looks at all of them, anyone except the boy.  
  
Youou reaches over and covers Fai's hands with his own. Fai startles. It's the hand with the fractured bone, however. He doesn't want to move in case he aggravates the injury.  
  
(Youou's hand is large and warm, and it feels like a safe place he can hide in.)  
  
"You're not interested?" the boy asks suddenly, hesitant. His hand pulls away from Fai's.  
  
Fai opens and closes his mouth. He wants to lie,  _so badly_ , but. He shouldn't. "I'm not," he says, looking at the empty seats by the wall. "Besides, I'm moving out."  
  
The hand pulls away. It leaves a little pocket of emptiness in Fai's chest.   
  
He keeps talking so he doesn't have to think about it. "I hope you didn't get the wrong impression," he says. "It was just a penpal thing. The notes. I thought it would be cute."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Youou's eyes cut away; he takes his hand back, cradles it with his other. Fai can't look at him anymore, suddenly. His heart is wrenching and he's messing everything up, all over again.  
  
"I'm sorry," he mumbles, getting to his feet. "I'm just— I'm just going to go outside for a bit. If you're done somehow and I'm not around, look for me there. I'll help with the bills."  
  
The air is a little warmer out, but no less difficult to breathe. Fai desperately wants to bang his head against a wall. He doesn't. He rounds the building, finds an empty wall, sinks back into it. Sends a text to his landlady.  _I'd like to move out next week. Some issues came up._  
  
The text back is immediate, like Yuuko's never are.  _I'm afraid there's a month's notice, Fai. It's on the contract. Anything I can help with?_  
  
_I'll pay for the month. I'll move out next week though._  
  
He doesn't know where he's going to go, but anywhere's got to be better than this. Maybe he can find something across the street. Or just on another floor of the building. It's kind of like hiding. Maybe there's a place available on the second floor, and he won't have to share the elevator if he climbs the stairs.  
  
Fai looks helplessly at his phone, wondering how things even got to this.   
  
Youou's interested in him. He shouldn't be. Fai has nothing to offer the boy, and he's too old, besides. The boy deserves someone his age. Someone who can probably... keep up with him when he gets older. Someone sporty. Not some stupid old twig like Fai.  
  
He spends a long stretch out there wallowing in self-pity, until the sun comes up and shines blindingly into his eyes.  
  
Fai ends up completing his circuit of the building, entering through the pharmacy door and buying a can of soda (the very same) from a vending machine.  
  
When he returns to the waiting area, Youou's still there, surrounded by other patients Fai doesn't recognize. He extends the can to the boy. Youou takes it.  
  
"It sure moves slow here, doesn't it?" Fai says cheerfully, like nothing happened.  
  
"Yeah." Youou's eyes are on the can. He turns it around in his fingers, does not open it.   
  
Fai keeps his arms carefully off the armrests of his chair. He's not going to see the boy after next week. He won't break Youou's heart—at least, not badly, since there was never love to begin with. The boy will find someone better and more deserving.  
  
That, at least, has Fai cheering up.  
  
When the nurse calls for Youou Suwa, Fai looks at him. (He hasn't known the boy's last name, not until now.) "Do you want me to follow you in?"  
  
Youou looks at him for a heartbeat, shakes his head.   
  
"Okay. Okay." Fai swallows. He doesn't have any right to be there (and he almost wishes for it). He sits back in his plastic seat, among all the other people who have illnesses and ailments that can't wait for a clinic.   
  
He waits for a long time. Fai starts to wonder if the injury was worse than he thought, if the boy somehow needed surgery, or pain medication, or something else he doesn't know about. Maybe he fainted and they had to wait for him to wake.   
  
Fai is so tempted to chew on his nails, except he shouldn't in this place. It's full of germs. He presses his hands between his knees, starts to look for places to rent on his phone.   
  
(He just wants to go home and hide.)  
  
When the boy finally appears, Fai has three potential places bookmarked. Youou has a cast on his hand, and the can in the other. Fai stares at the cast, feels all the blood drain from his face.  
  
"How bad is it?" he asks the boy, shifting nervously on his feet. "I'm sorry."  
  
Youou shrugs. "Just one bone. It's not a bad fracture. They said it should heal in three weeks."   
  
"Oh. I'm so sorry."   
  
"Tch."  
  
They wait around to pay—which passes a lot faster than registration did.  
  
"Where're you moving to?" Youou asks.  
  
Fai bites his lip. He doesn't look at the boy. "A few hours north."   
  
Quietly, "you're lying, aren't you."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
Youou shrugs, says nothing.  
  
They move through the payment line quickly. Fai leads them to the door, and they're stepping out into warm morning sunlight when Youou blurts, "my Ma has a surgery in three weeks. Thought you might want to know before you leave."   
  
Fai stares at him in horror. "What? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"   
  
"You weren't answering my notes."  
  
He cringes. (It always comes back to being his fault.) "What sort of surgery is it? If you don't mind telling."  
  
"Hysterectomy. She'll be in the hospital for a few days." Youou doesn't meet his eyes, but Fai sees the tension in his shoulders.   
  
"I— Okay." He doesn't know what to say to this. He's met the lady and liked her, and he likes Youou's father, too. "I hope it goes well."  
  
The boy nods.   
  
Fai doesn't change the topic, or attempt to make light of the situation, so they walk home in silence. The boy has a plastic bag for his pain meds—the can of soda is inside, too.  
  
The more he thinks about it, the guiltier he gets. About the lying, the broken bone, not knowing about the surgery. Even the boy buying those markers for him.   
  
When they're at the elevator lobby, Fai drags his feet. "Look, I should just... I should go now. I'm really not a good influence on you."  
  
Youou rounds upon him, scowling. "Why do you keep saying that? I don't get it. You're just— You're not very honest, but you're nice."  
  
He shakes his head. "You're wrong."  
  
The boy heaves a sigh, grabs him by the arm, and drags him into the elevator. The doors slide shut.  
  
"Look," Youou says, glowering at him. "I still believe you're a good guy. You keep trying to hide and run, but the way I see it, you're pretty harmless."  
  
Fai doesn't know if he should feel offended. He shrugs, looks away. He doesn't want to bring up the past again. "I'm okay. I have issues."  
  
"So have I. We've all got issues." Red eyes simmer at him; he shivers.  
  
"What sort of issues do you have?" Fai blurts. He kind of wants to know. Even if he's leaving next week.  
  
Youou studies him. "Violence. Anger management. It's not so bad now."  
  
Fai remembers deep lines on paper, remembers the ghost of a hand on his arm, fingertips pressing too hard. "Why?"  
  
"Tell me about you, and I'll trade you my history." The fingers on the inside of his elbow slide down a little, by half an inch, and Fai's breath catches in his throat.  
  
He wants to know. He wants to be touched. Neither should happen.  
  
His throat works. He tugs his arm away when the doors slide open, leaves Youou to step out alone. The boy stays in the elevator with him.  
  
"Aren't you going?" Fai says.  
  
There's a pause before Youou steps across the elevator gap. "At least show your face before you move out. Come over for dinner or something."  
  
His cheeks are dark. Fai desperately wants to pull him into a hug.   
  
All he does is reach out, poking Youou's forearm with a fingertip. It's all he'll allow himself. "We'll see. Take care of that hand."  
  
Youou nods. The elevator doors close.  
  
  
  
  
Fai doesn't want to pack.   
  
He's grown soft and comfortable in this apartment, his things scattered all over the place. Paintings on the walls, under his desk and on his tables. His broken walkman is still broken. Youou has never seen his marker collection—just over fifty of them, by now—and he hasn't seen the few more sketches Fai has done of him.   
  
More than throwing his things into boxes, Fai doesn't want to leave. He tweaks the blinds slightly open, listens to Youou talking to his mother over dinner. His father returns the next day, and the atmosphere in their kitchen grows lighter for it.   
  
It makes him feel lonely, listening to them like that, but it's nice. It almost feels like he has a family.  
  
Youou starts leaving messages again. Fai answers them. He's running out of time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this fic, I wasn't intending for this to happen, either. lol


	4. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this week on "all the things Fai shouldn't do":

He sprawls himself across his kitchen floor one evening, sketching, markers all around. The Suwa family is having dinner, voices drifting over. Fai is drawing a portrait of the three of them—a goodbye gift. He saves Youou for last, daubs the darker shades across his smooth jaw, traces his lips with pink.  
  
Fai thinks of the kiss again. He keeps thinking about it these days, imagining the boy pressing him down into his mattress, wet mouth trailing across his skin. He wants it  _so_ badly.  
  
And then it comes: "That guy's moving out next week."  
  
He freezes, lifts the trailing tip of the lilac marker so it doesn't leave an unsightly blob on expensive paper.   
  
"Really?" his father says. "He's not staying for your birthday?"  
  
Fai's eyes drop to his drawing. He didn't know about that.   
  
"Did he say why he's moving out?" Youou's mother asks.  
  
There's a short pause. "He said it's for his work."  
  
"There's a shame. I thought it was very nice of him to accompany you to get your hand treated."  
  
Fai can already imagine Mrs Suwa smiling a sad smile. He cringes, slides the drawing away in case he ruins it. Youou doesn't answer.  
  
"What about things between you and him?" his dad adds.  
  
Fai shrinks into himself, plastering his hands over his head like it'd save him from anything. He can imagine the boy shrugging, eyes downcast.  
  
"Nothing happened."  
  
"It's for your own good," Fai whispers. He doesn't know who he's trying to convince.   
  
"You can still keep in touch, Youou. Maybe he'll write back," Youou's mother says. "I hope we'll see him before he goes. I liked having him over."  
  
His father laughs, loud and heartily. "I think you should teach him to use those chopsticks while you still have the chance."  
  
Fai blushes hot, cheek plastered to cool tile. The tension from his chest seeps out by a little—Youou's parents don't hate him. It's unbelievable. He doesn't know why they're still talking about him.  
  
And he'll miss the boy's  _birthday_.   
  
Fai grabs the nearest piece of paper and a pencil, scribbles,  _Do you want to go out this weekend?_  
  
It's the least he can do.  
  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry," Fai says again, "about your hand."  
  
The boy rolls his eyes. "Stop that already. Two more weeks and it'll be fine."  
  
"But you'll have that on your birthday," Fai blurts, and immediately regrets it. They've never talked about this.  
  
To the side, Youou fixes him with a stare. "You've been listening."  
  
Fai wishes he were more elegant than this. "I guess," he says. "I just— Well— I happened to hear. Sorry."  
  
"Quit saying sorry," the boy mutters, eyebrows dropping into a frown. "It's not your fault."  
  
"Everything's my fault." Fai smiles bright, waves it off. "Let's not talk about it."  
  
"But—"  
  
"Now that we're on the subject: what do you want for your birthday?"   
  
Youou blinks at him. His gaze turns pensive, and Fai has a brief moment to regret. "I don't need much. But it'll be nice if my Ma gets out of her surgery fine."  
  
Fai grimaces. "Yeah. But I can't give you that."  
  
"No, you can't," the boy agrees. He purses his lips briefly, as if mulling over his words. Then he drops his tone. "I like you," he says, meets Fai's eyes for a second, and looks away. "I just wish you'd stay."  
  
It's not something he expects to hear over a meal of burgers and fries, but there it is. Fai glances out the window, at the people walking on the sidewalk beneath them. His chest aches. "You know I can't."  
  
Youou swallows.  
  
"When I move out, you'll have to forget about me," Fai says. "You have a bright future ahead of you. Lots of pretty girls and boys. People who are much better for you."  
  
"And you aren't?" Those red eyes are on him again. Fai blinks, averts his gaze, thinks maybe he should not have asked the boy out at all.   
  
"I don't know what you see in me," he says softly, his heart raw. "I'm just— I make mistakes all the time."  
  
"You're kinda at peace. Happy." Fai has to strain his ears to catch those words. The table next to them is unoccupied, full of abandoned trays and crumpled wrappers.  
  
"I'm not—"  
  
"You are when you bake." The boy's cheeks are pink, again, and Fai is torn between staring and hiding his embarrassment.   
  
"I— You can't be serious."  
  
Youou nods.  
  
"I thought I was alone!" Fai hisses, mortified. He's spent countless nights with the blinds up, making something or other. "When— How long?"  
  
The boy shrugs awkwardly. "For some time, now."  
  
For lack of a retort, Fai blathers, "it's past your bedtime!"  
  
"And it's not past yours?" Youou meets his accusatory stare, chin lifted.  
  
"I'm an adult. I decide what my bedtime is."   
  
"I'm old enough to decide when I sleep, damn you."  
  
They stare at each other for a while, both unyielding. Fai eventually snorts. "We clash over the most stupid things. You think this'll work out?"  
  
The boy narrows his eyes. "We're both stubborn. So if we put our mind to it, yes."  
  
"I still don't think so." Fai turns away, chomps on a French fry. He's not looking at the boy.  
  
Youou watches him eat, folds his arms across his chest. His right hand is in that bulky cast, a nagging reminder. "I don't want to lose touch with you after you move."  
  
"Maybe you should."  
  
"You act like the only reason you aren't interested is because you're too old," the boy snaps suddenly, leaning forward, eyes flashing. A few people look over; Fai winces.  
  
"We should leave this place if you're done," he says, pushing his tray away. The rest of his fries are cold and hard now; Fai wipes his fingers on a napkin.  
  
Youou follows him out.  
  
The boy isn't willing to drop the subject. They breeze past stores and restaurants, Youou keeping up with Fai's strides easily. They're the same height—at least, for now—and Fai huffs, irate. "I can't run from you."  
  
Youou snorts. "You shouldn't be running."   
  
"What should we be doing, then?"  
  
As soon as those words leave his mouth, Fai regrets them, because the boy slants a heavy look at him. "Do you want an answer to that?"  
  
"No."  
  
And Fai shouldn't be blushing, either, but he is. He wishes his face would stop doing that without consulting him first. "What do you want for your birthday?" he asks. "Something I can actually buy. From around here."  
  
Youou shrugs. "Clothes are always useful. I go through them really quick."  
  
He has a point. Fai studies the boy's physique (and only because he needs to know what sort of clothes he'd need), and they decide that shoes and a shirt would be the way to go. So they head into a departmental store, where there are signs announcing sales throughout the place.  
  
It kind of makes Fai quiver a bit. He likes sales. He has to get Youou his things first, though.  
  
The boy doesn't take long to pick out a pair of sports shoes and a T-shirt. Fai gladly pays for them, imagines the boy in shirt and shoes (and  _only_  in them).   
  
(It's fair play, if Youou had enjoyed watching what he did the other night.)  
  
When they're done at the cashier, Fai takes them the long way out of the store, through the women's section. There are sales on the lingerie.  
  
"You like that stuff?" Youou asks.  
  
Fai's cheeks heat up again. He sighs. "Am I that obvious?"  
  
The boy shrugs, but his lips are quirked. "I'll wait if you want to look around."  
  
There are ladies around who look at them strange—a mother with her daughters, old women pushing their carts through. Fai ignores their stares, goes straight for the lace panties. He loves their designs. Most things on the internet are gaudy and awful, but the departmental stores have a nice selection. They even fit his hips.  
  
"You think?" he asks, playfully, holding up a sheer white thing that wouldn't conceal anything at all.  
  
Red sweeps up Youou's neck when Fai stretches the garment over his hips. He gulps, tries to speak a couple times. When he finally says something, it's in a low mumble. "I don't think there's much support at all."  
  
"Which is the point," Fai answers, sly smile clinging to his face. He strings the scrap of fabric onto his forearm, picks out the next item. They're 5 for $20, and he wants all the pretty ones he can find.  
  
There is one with printed silver moons and stars and lace across the bottom, and one that's opaque and sailor-striped. The rest are either sheer, entirely lace, or a mix of both. He can't wait to try them on.  
  
It's insane for him to be doing this with Youou accompanying him, but he won't be seeing the boy again, right?  
  
Surprisingly, the boy hangs around with him all the way to the cashier. He's walking a little awkwardly, and Fai can tell his jeans are tighter than before. It sends a little thrill up his spine, but he doesn't talk about it. He's not supposed to acknowledge any of this.  
  
Youou's breathing is shallow. It distracts Fai to no end as they walk to the bus stop, and he can't help glancing down, when he thinks he can get away with it.   
  
(He wants the boy  _so_  much. He wants to know if Youou jerks off to him. If he does it multiple times a day.)  
  
They get jostled some on the crowded bus. Fai is pushed up against the boy.  
  
For a moment, he freezes, too caught up with savoring the firmness of that chest. When he remembers, he mutters an apology. He doesn't mean it at all. He wants to press his nose to that chest and breathe. He wants his hands  _everywhere_.  
  
He doesn't know how they make it back to the apartments. How he stays sane in the elevator, unable to touch the boy when he's so close.   
  
When the chime goes for their floor, Fai follows the boy out, and rasps, "wait."  
  
Youou turns in surprise. "Thanks for today," he says. "I appreciate it. You got me a bunch of stuff."  
  
Fai doesn't answer to any of it. He steps close, presses his mouth flush against Youou's, and the boy is too stunned to react. He still smells like Fai's aftershave.  
  
Fai is a bundle of nerves when he pulls away. "Just— Just an extra something for your birthday," he croaks and turns, key in hand. "Sorry I won't be there."  
  
He scurries to his door, trembling, gasps when the boy closes in and catches his arm with his bandaged hand. "You don't get to run like that," he growls, and leans in.  
  
The next kiss is ferocious. There is the sound of something hitting the floor, but all Fai can think about is the large hand on his waist pinning him to the wall, and the mouth slanted open against his, hot and hungry. He opens himself to Youou, meets the heavy sweep of that tongue, and all the blood in his body  _swoops_  down between his legs.  
  
He whimpers, squirming, needing, body arching towards the boy and needing to be touched  _right now._  
  
Youou's palm slides downwards, heavy over his erection, and Fai's mewl chokes off. He needs more.  
  
They can't do this.  
  
He breaks the kiss with a tremendous effort, gasping. "No. We shouldn't."   
  
Every bit of his body screams otherwise.  
  
The boy stills, chest heaving, and Fai watches when he draws back. Those red eyes are dark, and his mouth is wet.   
  
"You— You need to go home," Fai pleads. "We shouldn't be doing this."  
  
"You want me," Youou says. He pulls away, slowly, and Fai's skin is all the more empty for his missing heat.   
  
"No," Fai says, even now. "Go home."  
  
The boy swallows. "Don't leave without telling me."  
  
It sounds like a plea, something Youou would never, ever do.  
  
Fai looks away, at his door, and hates all the stupid decisions he's ever made. "I'll— I'll try," he says, voice rough. "But I can't come to dinner."  
  
The boy watches him, unsmiling. His heart is in his eyes, bruised and stripped bare. Fai has hurt him enough.  
  
"Just go," Fai pleads. He doesn't want the boy to leave. He doesn't want to hurt him more, but it just keeps happening. "Please."  
  
Youou backs further, stoops to take his bag, and pulls his keys from his pocket. Fai watches him bonelessly, every bit of his chest edged with glass.   
  
It looks as though the boy has words on his tongue, but he doesn't let them fall. He slides his key home, turns the knob, and disappears with a soft click.  
  
This is their goodbye.  
  
  
  
  
Fai packs.   
  
He starts by throwing his clothes into bags, all of it, until every drawer and closet is empty. His bed is full of clothes and bags and it's a mess, and Youou's portrait is on the wall.  
  
He can't bear to tear it off. Instead, Fai turns his back on the drawing and shoves at his clothes. He tugs on his hair like it can stop the bitterness in his gut, thumps his head soundly against the wall. He crawls into the space between the bags and the headboard and pulls the blankets over himself, pretending that he's on the beach, sunshine in his hair and a cocktail in his palm.  
  
Maybe he cries a little.  
  
Yuuko sends him a text message.  _Feel free to stay til the end of the month. You're paying for it._  
  
The buzz of his phone rouses him from his daze, and he pokes at it, realizing that he still doesn't have a picture of the boy. Which is just as well, because Fai needs to forget. He drags out his cardboard boxes, starts to put his walkman in it, and the fire engines, and the first of a few picture frames.   
  
His stomach rumbles.   
  
The kitchen is dim with only the stove light on. He doesn't feel like making anything, but his stomach warbles and shrivels in his midsection, and he pulls open the fridge in surrender.   
  
Fai makes himself some instant noodles, shoves a stalk of celery in, and tucks himself in a corner of the kitchen to eat.  
  
And then he realizes he's forgotten to close the windows, because he hears the Suwa family sitting down to dinner, all three of them.  
  
"How was your date with Fai?" His father sounds as jaunty as ever.  
  
Lowly, "it wasn't a date. But it went okay."  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"He needs some time alone, dear. Fai's still leaving."  
  
"Oh. Right. Sorry, kid. You get his number at least?"  
  
"No."  
  
Fai curls up in his corner, wishing he had earplugs or something. He doesn't want to listen to this. He's moving out. The boy will recover. And then he'll be grateful for it.   
  
The silence in the other kitchen breaks when Youou's father speaks up again. "How about we do something fun for your birthday. We'll go watch a game. Have dinner at that sushi place you like."   
  
"But Ma—"  
  
"She's fine. See?"  
  
"I'm coming with you both, silly."  
  
The boy doesn't speak for a while, but when he does, he sounds happier. "All right."  
  
Their conversation takes a turn for lighter topics, and Fai exhales his relief. He sets his pot down, leans his head against the side of the fridge, and closes his eyes.  
  
  
  
  
When he wakes from the unintentional doze, it's dark in the kitchen, save for the stove light. Fai squints at the wall clock—he's been asleep for three hours. The saucepan of noodles is dry and bloated to his side, no longer appetizing.   
  
He's about to stand and stretch when someone speaks in the other kitchen.  
  
"Do you think he'll be fine?"  
  
"He's all grown up now—of course he'll be."  
  
"He's— I'm worried about him. He looked terrible when he got back. You didn't see his face."  
  
(Fai's heart clenches.)  
  
"Damn. Really?"  
  
"He really likes Fai. I just... I wish we could do something about it."  
  
"What's there to do though? Guy's moving out. Not like we can tell him to hold his horses. 'Sides, Youou's got to learn stuff like that. Not everything happens the way he wants it to."  
  
Someone sighs.   
  
"He's in deep, isn't he."   
  
"I'm afraid— Yes. He is. I just... wish all of this didn't have to happen at once. This, and then the surgery."  
  
"Right now, I'm more concerned about you, dear. Youou's a man now. He can get over this."   
  
"Maybe you should stay home and accompany him instead. I'm just going to be out for several hours."  
  
"You know I can't do that. The last time—"  
  
"Complications don't always happen, you know."  
  
Another sigh.   
  
"They happened the last two times. I can't lose you." His voice breaks a little, and Fai's heart aches along with it.   
  
Youou will recover without Fai. Fai isn't so sure he'll be okay if something happens to his mother.   
  
Maybe he should stay, just in case the boy needs someone to talk to. There are still three weeks left in his notice period. Maybe Fai can hide until then. Pretend that he's gone, and show up if things don't seem right. He'll go when he's sure the boy is okay.  
  
It's not much of an excuse, but it's good enough for Fai.  
  
  
  
  
Fai disappears from the Suwas' radar four days later. He slips the drawing of them under their door when only the mother is home, a note clipped to it.  _Sorry I couldn't say goodbye. All the best wishes for you guys._  
  
He's arranged things in his apartment to make the least amount of noise. The windows are left very slightly ajar, seemingly closed, and the blinds are almost completely shut. He brings takeout home every night, makes PB &J sandwiches every morning so he doesn't have to cook and make noise.   
  
He keeps the lights in the kitchen off where possible, silently washing his cups and spoons and things. In the mornings, he takes the stairs down instead of waiting for the elevator. At night, he clocks in overtime, takes the elevator to the floor above, and sneaks down through the stairwell when the family is having dinner. His hoodie hides his hair wherever he goes.  
  
Fai becomes very, very good at hiding his tracks.  
  
  
  
  
When he can, he listens to them through the kitchen windows. The boy seems to be fine, if unhappy. Fai's heart flutters when he hears that voice, low and rumbling. A couple of times, he pushes the plastic slats of his blinds apart to look into that kitchen, gaze lingering on Youou. None of them notice his attention.   
  
Fai becomes a regular on his kitchen counter, straining his ears to listen in on their conversations. The surgery will proceed as scheduled. The boy is recovering, day by day. They celebrate Youou's birthday early on a weekend, and Fai allows himself to bake, just the once, while they're out.  
  
His kitchen smells like warm butter, like a slice of heaven. If there's one thing he'd share with the boy, it would be this.  
  
For lack of anything to do while he listens in on their dinners, Fai begins to sketch the view.   
  
He draws by the bluish light of a little LED torch. There are the long, aluminum lines of the windows, the short square sides of their dining table, and the mess of the father's hair. Next to him is his wife, her features pale and delicate. Fai spends more time on Youou's profile, on that sharp nose and that strong jaw, those eyes that see too much.   
  
He misses the boy.  
  
His parents discuss school with him, how he's doing with his studies and soccer. Sometimes, Fai closes his eyes and lets that voice wash over him, like an ocean wave.   
  
Youou's birthday falls on a Wednesday night, exactly a week after Fai staged his disappearance.   
  
The lights dim; Youou's mom takes the cake out of the fridge and lights eight candles on them—one big, seven small. The candlelight is gold on Youou's face, dancing with warmth, and Fai is plastered to the window, unable to sing along to the birthday song.   
  
The boy's parents coax him to make a wish. Fai waits with bated breath, only exhaling when Youou does, blowing all the candles out.   
  
He can almost smell the nostalgia of candlesmoke. He slumps limply down behind the blinds, drawing forgotten, watching as Youou cuts his cake and frowns at his father's attempt to take a picture with his phone.   
  
Fai shouldn't be seeing all of this. This is an intimate moment, one that doesn't include him. Youou is forgetting about him. He should be doing the same.   
  
He sighs, crawls off the counter and heads to bed, where the walls are empty and waiting for him to leave.  
  
  
  
  
It has to happen, of course. Fai misses two buses back home from work. By the time he drags himself to the apartment, bag of cooling takeout in hand, the moon is hanging high in the sky, and he's all but slouched over, fumbling with his keys. He's tired. All he wants is to curl up in bed and go to sleep and forget.  
  
He finds the right key, freezes when the elevator chimes and the doors slide open.  
  
The chances of the elevator being completely empty are incredibly low. Chances of whoever it is not seeing him, lower than that.   
  
Fai realizes a little too late that the hoodie may hide his hair, but it does not hide his height.   
  
He gulps, shoves the key into his door.  
  
"Hey."  
  
His heart damn near leaps out of his chest. He twists the key, opens the door, and a large hand is on his shoulder, fingers curling in. Fai jumps.  
  
"It's you, isn't it," Youou says, turns him around.  
  
He can't help looking up, into those eyes. He's missed them horribly, and Fai is backing away even as the boy sweeps his gaze down, studying him.   
  
"Why? I thought you left." Youou is wearing the T-shirt Fai bought. He looks like he's just been out on an errand, but his hands are empty.  
  
"I did," Fai mumbles, stepping into the shadows of his living room. "I'm leaving."   
  
"But you're still here." Youou looks hurt, maybe betrayed, and his eyes flicker briefly around the apartment. "Your things are still here."  
  
Fai draws a sharp breath. He's hurting the boy all over again. "I'm— I'm leaving. After the surgery. I just— I just wanted to make sure you get through it okay."  
  
He blushes hotly at that, has nothing to say to defend himself. That is the truth, for once.  
  
Youou sighs heavily. "Then why didn't you tell me? You're avoiding me, aren't you. My parents think you're gone."  
  
Fai swallows past all the excuses in his throat. "I'll be gone. Next week. I promise."  
  
"I don't want you to promise to leave," the boy growls, stepping in after him. Fai realizes a little too late that he should have tried closing the door, but Youou has both feet in his doorway now, shoulders stretching wide. "I want you to stay. I've missed you, damn it."  
  
(Fai really, really wants to huddle and hide in that chest.)  
  
"You shouldn't. I told you not to." The words sound weak even to himself. He just— He doesn't know anymore.  
  
Youou takes another step closer, and Fai finds himself pulled into a tight hug, strong arms around his back.  
  
He can't even protest. It feels good. Warm. Safe.  
  
Fai hasn't been hugged like this in a long, long time.  
  
His breath rushes out of him, shakily, and he can't help sagging forward, one hand curling into the fabric of Youou's shirt.   
  
"Don't do this to me," he mumbles, breath hitching when Youou's hand slides down to the small of his back.  
  
"I could say the same to you," the boy answers. He doesn't let go.  
  
Fai doesn't want to see his face right now. None of this is supposed to happen. His heart is pounding so very hard.  
  
Youou tugs his hood off, nuzzles into the slope of Fai's shoulder. Fai shivers. He doesn't want it to stop, when the boy presses a kiss to his skin, then another, and another.  
  
He groans, burying his nose into that broad shoulder. "You make me want so many things," he whispers. "All the things I shouldn't."  
  
"What kinds of things?" The murmur is soft. It sends tingles down his spine. "Tell me."  
  
Fai shakes his head. "You don't even know me."  
  
"Then let me know you."  
  
He can't help snorting then. "That sounds so scandalous. Especially coming from you."  
  
The boy pulls back slightly, just so he can frown at Fai. "I'm not scandalous. I meant what I said."  
  
"I know." Fai noses along the warm skin of his neck. "Mm. You smell so good."  
  
"Does this mean you'll stay?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Better than a straight 'no.'" Those arms shift against his back, tugging him closer. "Can I write to you? While you're still here?"  
  
Fai sighs. "I don't see why not. Your parents will really hate me now."  
  
"Stop talking like that. They won't."  
  
"Really?  
  
"Yeah, really."  
  
He breathes out. It isn't fair, how Youou is so young and feels so much bigger and safer than Fai is. Fai doesn't want to leave the circle of his arms. He'll stay like this for as long he can, even if his dinner is turning stone-cold by the moment.   
  
His stomach is the first to break the silence. It rumbles loud and demanding, and Youou draws back to look between them.   
  
"Ugh," Fai says. "That wasn't supposed to happen, either."  
  
The boy scoffs. "It's way past your dinnertime. You should eat."  
  
"It's cold."  
  
"So nuke it."  
  
"Aren't your parents going to wonder where you went?" Fai asks, glancing out the open door. He hasn't bothered reaching out to shut it; it's far too comfortable in Youou's arms, and he doesn't want to have the boy misinterpret it as an invitation to stay.  
  
"Crap."  
  
"Yeah. You should go."   
  
"Don't wanna." Youou pulls Fai back against himself, sniffs briefly up his neck. "Can I come back? In a few minutes?"  
  
"No," Fai says, before he can second-guess his choices. "I need to eat, and you need to go to bed. And this did not happen."  
  
"Sure it did. You should quit lying to yourself." Youou finally pulls away, looking him in the eye. "You're an idiot. I missed you when I thought you were gone."  
  
"You shouldn't have," he says flatly.   
  
"Are you going to stop hiding?" There's a flare of hope in the boy's eyes, one that makes Fai's insides quiver. "My Ma was really disappointed when you skipped out on dinner."  
  
Fai winces. (He's such a coward.) "But she's due for surgery soon."  
  
"She won't be able to cook for a while after the surgery," Youou says. He looks to the side here, mouth pulling thin.   
  
"I can cook," Fai blurts, before he can stop himself. He swears at himself the next moment. "No. Never mind. I'm supposed to be moving out."  
  
"You aren't actually moving out because of your job, are you?"  
  
He sighs. "Does it matter what I say?"  
  
"If you're gonna lie, then no." Youou shrugs, turns partway to leave. "Either way, my Dad and I will be cooking. If you want to come over then, that's fine too."  
  
"I— I'll have to think about it."   
  
"Don't move out." Red eyes linger on him, earnest, and Fai feels himself torn two ways. He still really likes the boy. And he's too old. As if the boy's read his thoughts, he adds, "my parents know this other couple. They've got a twenty-something year age gap. Ours is nowhere near that."  
  
Fai frowns at him. "But you're not even twenty yet!"  
  
"I'll be twenty in three years. It's not like we're getting married." Youou's cheeks darken; he turns away. "I mean. You know."   
  
Fai remembers that the boy turned seventeen a couple days ago, and he winces, guilty. "Hey. I'm sorry I wasn't there for your birthday. I was... I was watching."  
  
The boy quirks a lopsided smile at him. "Guess a birthday kiss is too much to hope for."  
  
Fai's stomach growls again. He makes a face, takes a step back. (A kiss sounds good. He wants more than that.) "I have to eat my dinner. Nuke food. Things like that."  
  
Youou snorts. "You were going to do that five minutes ago."   
  
"I know I fail at this. You don't have to dig it in."  
  
"Do I have to do it for you?" The boy turns back, reaches out for his takeout bag. "Probably get you fed faster than you do yourself."  
  
"That just sounds really wrong."  
  
Youou's eyes snap up to his, and he's blushing the same time Fai does. With a great sigh, he steps close, pulling the takeout bag from Fai's hands. "Where's your microwave."  
  
"In the kitchen. I haven't packed it yet."  
  
"At least you've got half a brain in there." The boy flicks the lights on, pops the microwave door open, and shoves the various little boxes of takeout inside.   
  
"Look, I'm old enough to do this," Fai says, reaching out for the crinkling bag. "You're not my mom."  
  
They exchange a look, and Fai finds himself doubled over with laughter, grabbing helplessly at his stomach. Feet away, Youou is doing the exact same thing.  
  
"I'm old enough to be your mom, damn you," the boy says, reaching over to shove at Fai. "You probably suck at taking care of yourself."  
  
"I do not—"  
  
"Youou? Are you in there?"  
  
The third voice has them shutting up and sobering in a matter of seconds. Fai recognizes the voice as the boy's father's; he straightens, suddenly horrified. Mr Suwa will know that he's been lying, the moment he sees the mess around the living room.   
  
"Yeah," the boy says first, striding out of the kitchen. "Just showing the idiot how to use a microwave."  
  
"I'm not an idiot," Fai splutters, following him out, his face red. The boy's parents are standing in his doorway, just outside the threshold of his apartment. His gut twists on itself—they've seen his lies for what they are, and Fai isn't sure he can deal with that. "Mr Suwa, Mrs Suwa! I'm— Well. I'm still here for the time being. As you can see."  
  
"Decided to move back?" the mother says, a twinkle in her eye.  
  
Fai forces himself to keep looking at them. His smile feels a little too tight. "Yes, it seems that way. I might have to move out again though. Just so you know."  
  
"We really liked that drawing you did of us, by the way," Mr Suwa says, grinning. "Thanks."  
  
"Thank you. You really put a lot of effort into it. We've framed it and hung it up in our living room," his wife adds. She's smiling at Fai, too, and Fai doesn't think he deserves any of this. "Now that you're back, would you like to join us for dinner this weekend?"   
  
Fai gulps, sees the way the boy glances at him. He fiddles with his glasses. "I, um, I think I can make it."  
  
Youou perks up.  
  
"That's great! We'll definitely look forward to it."   
  
"Same here," Fai says, trying to sound as enthusiastic as he can without his voice going off-key. This is more than what he can deal with. None of it is going according to plan, and he really should not be agreeing to all this.  
  
"Sorry to have Youou bothering you," the father says. "He was checking to see if we had mail, but he took a while. We were starting to wonder about him."  
  
"There was no mail. I came up here, and... he needed help." Youou jerks his thumb at the kitchen, not looking at Fai. There is a dusting of red on his cheeks, however. The sight of it makes Fai's heart expand. (Youou is really cute like that. He shouldn't like the boy as much as he does.)  
  
The microwave beeps.  
  
"That's my dinner bell," Fai chirps. "I'll see you all this weekend?"   
  
The parents leave with smiles and waves, and Youou trails behind them, glancing back.   
  
(Fai really wants to kiss him.)  
  
"I'll see you soon," he says, lingering by the door. "Would you rather text? Than leave notes, I mean."  
  
Fai wanders over. "I don't have your phone number."   
  
The boy pulls his phone out. "Tell me yours. I'll give you a missed call."  
  
And just like that, Youou has his number. Fai has enough to regret for weeks. He leans in to make sure that the boy keys it in right—or maybe he just wants more of that heat—and pulls back reluctantly when the phone is tucked away.  
  
"Well, good night," Fai says. His eyes fall to Youou's mouth.  
  
"Eat your food," the boy says.  
  
"Yes, Mom."  
  
Youou snorts, lips quirked up, and Fai can't help himself. He leans in. The boy meets him halfway.  
  
The kiss shouldn't last half as long, or involve anywhere near that amount of tongue, but it does. Youou's eyes are dark when he steps back. Fai doesn't know what he looks like, himself, when he whispers  _happy birthday_ , but it makes the boy swallow hard.  
  
He doesn't want the boy to leave. Somehow, Youou steps out of his apartment, and somehow, he gets the door shut. By then, the food in the microwave has gone cold again.  
  
Fai doesn't mind. His thoughts are in the apartment next door, and if he spends a little longer in the shower tonight, no one else is going to judge him for it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so maybe this is a little melodramatic.. I don't know =_=


	5. Baking and a Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter warning:** Mild violence, mentions of death.
> 
> Ratings bumped to E.

The notes start coming in the next morning.  
  
_What do you want for dinner?_  
  
Fai stares at it with a wry smile. "I don't know. Cook whatever."  
  
To make a point, he draws several dishes of varying ethnic origin, and adds a smiley face.  _You decide. Just no raw fish or pickles._  
  
He drops the note off when he heads out to work.  
  
The next note he gets is just as succinct.  _Pickles aren't that bad. Especially the crunchy ones._  
  
Fai winces when he writes,  _Sour food just makes me think it's gone bad. It kills my entire appetite._  
  
_I guess sour cream is a big no for both of us._  
  
He rolls his eyes, slides his answer into the plastic bag.  _Let's talk about something more appetizing, please._  
  
When he receives his answer, he finds a splotch of ink on the first letter, like the boy hesitated a long while before he wrote,  _Can I come over tonight?_  
  
It's Fai's turn to dither. He really doesn't know what to write. He wants them to do so many things, most of which are not answerable to the boy's parents.   
  
_You shouldn't,_  he eventually scrawls.   
  
His phone buzzes that night, while he's in the middle of washing his dishes. The blinds are half-open, and Youou is in the other kitchen, phone in hand. Fai gives him a long look, hurries through the utensils, and dries his hands.  
  
_It's Friday night. You can stay up late, right?_  
  
He whips around to stare at the boy, who blinks and flushes all at once. Fai's phone buzzes again.  
  
_I didn't mean like that._  
  
But the thought, once it takes root in his mind, isn't so easy to scrub out. He bites his lip, turns away. The way they've kissed leaves no doubt between them about what the boy wants, and what Fai will readily give him. Just the possibility of it all has his thighs tingling, his mind hopelessly in the gutter.  
  
Youou sends another message.  _Are you baking tonight?_  
  
Fai's cheeks scorch the moment he reads the message. And the more he thinks about it, the better an idea it seems, because he's no longer really thinking with his brain. _Risky_ , he types.  
  
In the next kitchen, Youou blushes a deep crimson.  _I didn't mean THAT_  
  
The boy is leaning against the cabinets on the far side of his kitchen, and there is no hiding that he is, in fact, interested. And it's so easy to do this—there are no strings attached. It's not any sort of a commitment. It's just risky.   
  
And sexy as hell.  
  
Fai doesn't need to look to know that Youou can see his arousal. It's kind of embarrassing, kind of distracting. He shouldn't be doing this.  
  
Voices sound from the side. They look at the Suwas' kitchen doorway at the same time, and Fai ducks out of sight. He doesn't need the boy's parents latching on to this.  
  
_I'll bake,_  he types.  _1am_  
  
Youou's parents enter the kitchen, and their voices drift over Fai, who crawls closer to the window so he can't be seen at all. They talk to the boy. Youou gives them short answers and disappears from the kitchen.  
  
"I wonder where he's in a rush off to."  
  
"Maybe he forgot his homework. D'you want some cake?"  
  
When Fai's phone buzzes again, he can't help but smirk.   
  
_Why are you making this so hard_  
  
_It's only good if it's hard_ , he answers, and is very glad that no one can see the heat on his cheeks.  
  
_Damn you_  
  
Five hours is a very, very long time to wait. Fai rubs one out at his desk, feels all the better for it. He hopes the boy has done the same—it would help clear his mind for a bit.   
  
_How are you?_  he asks an hour in.  
  
The reply comes immediately.  _Horny. Can't think for shit_  
  
_It'll really help if you jerk off._  
  
_Never thought I'd hear you say that._  A moment later, his phone vibrates again.  _Did you?_  
  
It's a lot easier talking to the boy when he isn't being stared at. Fai grins, fingers flying over his phone.  _I have all my mental faculties intact. It's very pleasant having access to my brain._  
  
_You're a damn troll_  
  
_So, what're you thinking about?_  
  
_Do you want the long or short version of it_  
  
Fai pauses there, undecided. He kind of wants to know, but. He shouldn't.  _The short version. For now._  
  
_You._  
  
He smiles at the text, feels a little shiver slide down his spine.   
  
The next message comes in some minutes later.  _I'm better now._  
  
_Good boy_ , Fai types.  
  
_I'm not a boy!_  
  
_Do your homework._  
  
_Damn you._  
  
The next few hours pass relatively quickly, once Fai occupies himself with a new sketch. He remembers to pull a slab of butter out of the fridge to soften it, sends a quick message to the boy.  _I'm making shortbread again tonight. You won't like it 'cause it's mostly butter. But it smells like heaven._  
  
_Ok. I'm doing homework. Like you said._  A few minutes later,  _Do you like good boys or bad boys? Just wondering._  
  
Fai has to laugh at that, because the boy is  _so obvious_. He taps a reply.  _I like cute ones. Just the one._  
  
_Does it not matter if I'm bad?_  
  
The question has Fai thinking for a while, running possibilities through his head.  _It probably doesn't matter. You could kill people, and I'd still lik_  
  
Fai stops typing. He can't say those words. It would make whatever he's feeling real, and he can't. He hits the backspace button and retypes,  _You could kill people, and still be cute anyway._  
  
Which still incriminates him, but at least it does so in a roundabout way.  
  
_So you like me._  
  
"Why do you have to be so difficult," Fai mutters at his phone. He types his frustration out and sends it off. "Go away."  
  
_Is it 1 yet_  
  
_I'd offer to teach you to bake, but that's not... a very clever thing to do._  
  
_Are you afraid I'll get my hands dirty?_  
  
Fai coughs and hauls his mind back out of the boy's pants.  _That, among other things._  
  
_Tell me. Everything._  
  
_Maybe some other time._  
  
He shuts the lights off in his bedroom, makes his way to the kitchen to get everything set up. It doesn't take long to make the cookies, really, so he pulls out veggies to prep them for tomorrow's dinner. It helps focus his thoughts on something other than Youou—onions, carrots, bell peppers.  
  
Fai has a couple of windows open so he can look into the other kitchen. It's through these that he sees a light shape moving behind the other set of windows.  
  
His phone buzzes.  _You didn't tell me you're starting early!_  
  
Fai smiles when he sees the message, drying his hands off to reply.  _I'm not baking yet. It's not 1._  
  
Youou doesn't answer, but the white shape remains in the kitchen, at Youou's usual seat at the dining table. It takes a chunk of Fai's concentration to ignore him, until he realizes that the boy really isn't doing anything but watching.   
  
(How much has the boy seen of this?)  
  
Fai grabs his phone.  _Has it occurred to you how creepy we are? I spy on you. You spy on me._  
  
_Makes us even, doesn't it?_  
  
_Except you're a minor!_  Fai makes a face in Youou's general direction.  
  
_I think you're the minor_ , the boy writes.  
  
_Quit being a brat. Are your parents asleep?_  
  
_They are. And I'm not a brat, you idiot._  
  
_You do not call your elders names._  
  
_Are you done with your veggies? You spend more time on the phone than on them._  
  
Fai flips him off.   
  
Youou doesn't answer for a while. Fai imagines the boy being greatly offended, or chastened, but he knows better. All Youou probably did was scoff at him. The idiot.  
  
_I can't see into your kitchen_ , he types after the veggies have been neatly stored in their plastic containers in the fridge.   
  
_You want to see me?_  comes the immediate reply.  
  
_It's more like I need to see if there's anyone coming and going. If you happen to be distracted. But I'm not going to say no to seeing you._  Fai doesn't look at the boy after he sends the text. It's embarrassing, and he keeps his head down, wiping down the counter for his shortbread.  
  
The oven comes on next. Fai whips butter and sugar together, and the electric mixer drowns out the buzz of any incoming text. He does glimpse the boy pushing a couple of the window panes open, though, and he's able to see into that kitchen now, without light bouncing off glass.  
  
It is just about one on the wall clock when Fai decides that the butter and sugar have been properly creamed. He beats flour into the mix, turns it out of the bowl, onto the floured countertop. The dough is sticky on his fingers. He kneads it, feels the way it tautens beneath his fingers, and finally rolls it out, cutting it into strips.  
  
Youou is watching intently by the time he slides the cookie trays into the oven.   
  
Fai washes one of his hands off with soap. It isn't easy, and not all the grease comes off, but it's enough that he doesn't get too much butter on his pants.   
  
_How are you?_  he types, phone flat on the counter.  
  
_M hard_  
  
He gulps. He can't see much of the boy while he's seated, but Youou stands the moment he peers into the kitchen, shines the glow of his phone down.  
  
All the blood in his body rushes south. There is a distinct line in the boy's pants, one that Fai would very much love to get his hands on. He bites his lip, reaches down to pull his clothes open.  
  
_Damn_ , Youou writes.  
  
_U like?_  
  
He leans his weight against the fridge, juts his hips out. Youou has to have seen the panties, the one Fai had shown him at the store. They cling to the tops of his thighs, curve snug under his balls, and Fai reaches into them, fingers stretching out sheer fabric.  
  
In the next kitchen, Youou swears.  
  
It doesn't take much for him to grow hard—just the thought of the boy watching is enough. Fai strokes buttery fingers along himself, lets his panties stretch over his erection.   
  
This is embarrassing, but so damn hot, and his fingers are slippery from his own slickness.   
  
Fai pulls his cock up over the hem of his underwear, strokes his thumb along it, and whines when the boy does the same in the next kitchen, his phone briefly illuminating dusky flesh.   
  
_Fk yes_ , Youou finally answers.  
  
_Oh god u look so dmn gd_ , Fai types, his hand trembling. He isn't really thinking, only smearing  _wet_  all over himself, wishing he'd invited the boy over so he could be inside right now.  
  
He's dripping all over the kitchen floor, and biting down his whine each time Youou strokes over himself, moisture trickling down the back of his hand.  
  
His phone buzzes.  _Cnt hold gn cm_  
  
Fai watches as Youou tips his head back, phone angling downwards just as pearly white spurts everywhere. It's enough to send him over the edge, body tensing, vision flashing dark, teeth buried in his lower lip.  
  
When he is coherent enough to think, Fai realizes that the other kitchen is dark and empty, that the windows are still open. His fingers are clutched around his phone in a death grip. He has a bit of a mess to clean.   
  
Youou's head pops back up. "Did you set the timer?"  
  
" _Fuck_  no." With a helpless yelp, Fai hurries over to the oven, wiping his hands off on his pants and pulling the door open.  
  
The cookies are golden brown and puffed up, perfectly fine.  
  
He sighs, relieved, and winces when he turns back to the kitchen. "Did you get everything? Don't want your mom to find—"  
  
"Shut up," Youou hisses. "I'd rather not think about that."  
  
Fai grins at him, rinses his hands off and ducks down to clean the floor. For something with no strings attached, it was a lot of fun. He pulls his clothes back into place, takes the cookies out of the oven before they start to burn. His estimate is probably as good as any.  
  
When he turns back to wash his hands again, only one window is left open, and the boy is waiting expectantly for him. "Do I get a goodnight kiss?"  
  
Fai hesitates.  _This_  has strings attached.   
  
He likes kissing the boy. He likes the boy.   
  
Something shifts in Youou's expression, like he's made a decision. He pulls the last window pane shut, locks it, and heads out of the kitchen.  
  
It feels as though someone has reached into Fai's chest with a scoop and stolen some of his lungs. He hasn't expected to be this affected. But he hasn't expected to be dismissed like that, either.  
  
He stares at the kitchen sink, feeling a lot more empty than he's supposed to be.  
  
The doorbell rings.  
  
He startles, moves his feet over the kitchen tiles, hurrying to the door.   
  
"I thought you left," Fai says. He can't help the reproach in his tone. (But there is a little part of his heart that's swelling like a balloon about to burst.)  
  
"I left to come here. So you can make easier decisions. Tch." Youou stares at him, eyes narrowed, and Fai licks his lips. He kind of really wants that kiss.  
  
"Are you going to kiss me, or not."  
  
Fai swallows. "I don't know."  
  
Youou decides it for him. He leans in and catches Fai's mouth, and Fai smells the faint sharp salt of sweat on his skin. He reaches up for the boy, curling his hands around soft fabric, and relaxes into the kiss.   
  
It shouldn't happen, but it does.  
  
  
  
  
His eyes slide over the other messages on his phone, finding and locking onto the last one Youou left.  
  
It's crude and improperly-spelled, and it makes Fai blush every time he looks at it. The kitchen incident is a one-time thing, something that will not repeat itself. It really is too risky. And he's supposed to be moving out.  
  
_Morning_ , Fai types.  _Just needed to bury the above so my phone history appears relatively clean._  
  
_You're an idiot_ , Youou writes.  _But good morning._  
  
_What're you up to today?_  
  
_Soccer practice._  
  
_Do the boys stare at you in the locker room? Just curious._  
  
_They don't. But that's not making your phone any cleaner, is it?_  
  
_Let me pretend, you brat._  
  
_I am NOT a brat._  A second later,  _Damn you._  
  
_But for real though. No one stares at hot, sexy Youou?_  
  
_... I thought you were keeping this clean. I don't know. I don't look._  
  
_And yet you watch me._  
  
_Speak for yourself. What time you coming over tonight? Ma wants to know._  
  
_7ish? When you usually have dinner. That works._  
  
_Don't you think it's kind of weird that you know when I have dinner?_  
  
_Um._  
  
_And when I leave for school, and what I eat, and all that? Not to mention other things we won't talk about. For the sake of keeping your phone clean._  
  
_Brat. Nothing happened._  
  
_Like real nothing happened._  
  
_For the sake of your *parents*, let's pretend nothing happened._  
  
_Fine._  
  
_Are you blushing?_  
  
_No!_  
  
_Don't lie._  
  
_You're the one who lies, damn it!_  
  
_I still think you're blushing._  
  
_Whatever._  
  
_Your teenage charm is very attractive ;)_  
  
_Shut up. I'm headed for school now._  
  
_Now? Holy crap, that's early._  There's no response for a while, so Fai sends another message.  _Hello?_  And then another.  _Fine, ignore me. Leave me alone._  
  
_You are such an idiot._  
  
Fai sends so many smiley faces in return.  
  
  
  
  
Dinner with the Suwas goes surprisingly well. Youou's parents do not talk about Fai's absence, and Fai is more than happy to present his next basket of fruit. Youou's mother exclaims in delight over the fruit; his father just grins. The boy hovers in the background, eyes narrowed, arms across his chest.   
  
"You should see Youou's room," his father says. "He's really added a lot of your drawings to the wall!"  
  
The boy flushes a bright red. "Dad! Stop that!"  
  
His mother's laughter is bright like a tinkling stream. "Youou appreciates good art. Have you seen what we did with your drawing?"  
  
Fai follows them further into the apartment, where his drawing of the family hangs in a redwood frame across from the TV. It's amazing to behold. "I've never—" he says, choked, "I've never thought my art was good enough to be framed."  
  
"It's good," the boy says behind him, knuckles brushing light across his own. "I have more."  
  
"Why don't you let Youou show you what he did with your drawings?" the father says. "Maybe it'll inspire you to draw more!"  
  
The boy frowns at his father, but he grabs Fai's elbow anyway, leading the way to his room. "Come on. Before they embarrass me any more."  
  
Fai looks between the parents in consternation; Youou's mother smiles and turns towards the kitchen, while his father winks. Fai doesn't know what to say.  
  
"My room," the boy announces when they're inside, closing the door. "It's not much."  
  
The boy's bedroom is similar to Fai's—bare walls, but with posters of soccer stars and a huge expanse of little pieces of notepaper stuck above his bed.   
  
"Wow," Fai breathes. "You did a lot."  
  
Youou shrugs. "I don't have any more to put up. You should draw more."  
  
He blushes. "I just— No one's ever liked my drawings that much. I don't think. This is kind of amazing."   
  
"You're kind of amazing," the boy mutters, looks away. Fai says nothing. His heart squeezes. "You won't move, will you?"  
  
He shrugs. "I... don't know."  
  
"You could give us a chance." Youou slants a look at him, red eyes solemn, and Fai bites his lip.   
  
"It still feels like I'm going to get thrown in jail. For getting involved with you," he says quietly.  
  
"I'm not that young," the boy protests. "I'm past the age of consent."  
  
He can't stop blurting the first thing that comes to mind. "Have you? Had sex?"  
  
Youou shakes his head. "Just casually dated. Nothing more."  
  
Fai can't think beyond the few things swirling around in his head. The boy is a virgin. He likes Fai, for some unfathomable reason. He's still too young. "You aren't curious about it?"  
  
The boy frowns, shrugs. "'Course I am. Just don't see any point doing stuff with someone I'm going to regret being with later."  
  
"You don't even really know me," Fai says. "You'll regret this."  
  
"Tch. I can make my own decisions." Youou rolls his eyes. "If I regret this, then it's my fault. You don't have to take the blame for everything."  
  
"But." He hesitates, robbed of his pillar of reasoning—everything is his fault. "You just shouldn't."  
  
The boy sighs and turns, slipping an arm around his back. His chin comes to rest lightly on Fai's shoulder. "This why you wanted to be born a decade later?"  
  
"Yeah. This would be so much better if I were twenty-two. You know?" Fai breathes out slow and deep, leans into that strong chest. "I'm almost as old as your parents. Which is so awkward. I mean... It's kind of far-fetched, but I can't call them Mom and Dad. If we actually get to that point."   
  
"Tch. You're thinking way too far ahead." Youou reaches up, mussing his hair. Fai pulls away with an indignant squawk. "They like you. I think that's enough for now."  
  
"I still think they're going to hate me at some point." Fai bites his lip. The boy pulls him back snugly against his chest, and Fai allows it, attracted to that warmth. "Like we're probably going to screw up. I'm going to die early or something. And then you'll be left alone to go find your next boyfriend."  
  
"The hell." Youou actually pries him off, large fingers digging into his shoulders. "Are you serious? You think you'll just die like that?"  
  
Fai doesn't look at him. "I'll... probably die early. You know. Heart disease and things like that. Young people die of cancer all the time."  
  
"Will you stop that," the boy growls. His eyes are flashing, and Fai realizes too late that he's struck a nerve. "You aren't going to die."  
  
The grip on his shoulders tightens painfully; Fai winces, leaning away. "Ow."  
  
Youou releases him with a forceful shove, fingers curling on themselves. Fai stumbles. Youou's breathing has changed, deepened, and the second thing Fai realizes is that this boy can very well hurt him at twice his mass, even if they're the same height. Maybe they shouldn't be alone right now.   
  
"Okay," he says. "Maybe I won't."   
  
(He still thinks he will, but there's no harm not telling the boy about it. They aren't getting together, anyway.)  
  
"The thing is that you should find someone your age, who'll grow old together with you and stuff." Fai tries smiling. He isn't sure it helps, because the boy is still glaring at him, red eyes burning. "Like those photos on the internet with the old man and old woman? So you won't be alone. You know, in the future."  
  
Youou grits his teeth. "Not like I'm guaranteed to live a normal life. I could die before you—"  
  
"No," Fai gasps, horrified at the thought.   
  
"—or we can just not fucking think about dying, damn it!"   
  
Fai shuts up. He remembers that the boy's mother is going to have a surgery in a few days. Dying is not a topic he can deal with right now.   
  
Youou steps forward, and Fai backs away, the hairs on his neck standing on end. He doesn't want to be punched.   
  
Something must have shown on his face, because the boy stops suddenly, his expression shuttering. He sucks a deep breath in, chest expanding, and exhales. "I— I have this under control," he says, slowly. "I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
He watches as the boy steps back, forcibly relaxing his shoulders. With this returns Fai's sense of safety; he will not emerge from this with a black eye, and he is very much thankful for that. Softly, he says, "you say that like you've done this before."  
  
Youou glances away briefly. "I'm not— It's not a good thing to talk about, for me."  
  
Fai nods. He isn't especially inclined to step closer, but he wonders. About what this boy has done in his anger, and whether he will ever be on the receiving end of it. It would hurt a lot. "Yeah. Okay. I understand."  
  
"You won't die on me, you hear?" Those red eyes snap back on him, sharp and fierce, and Fai attempts a smile.  
  
"I'll try not to."  
  
"Good."  
  
They fall silent as the tension seeps away. Youou sits on his bed, looking off to the side. Fai wanders over to the headboard, examining the care with which the drawings have been stuck to the wall. Beneath each paper corner is a tiny, round blob of Blu-tack; it makes him smile to imagine those large fingers rolling little lumps of adhesive putty into spheres.  
  
"It's sort of like snot, isn't it?" Fai says, grinning wider when the boy's forehead furrows. "The sticky putty. You roll them between your fingers. You know?"  
  
He mimics rubbing his finger and thumb together. Youou makes a face in distaste. "How do you even come up with that crap?"  
  
Fai shrugs. "Life experience? A lady at my work likes doing that."  
  
"That's disgusting."  
  
"I imagine it must be very therapeutic." Fai rubs his digits together, trying to recreate the specific gestures that have fascinated and repulsed him in equal measure.   
  
"Stop doing that." Youou reaches up and swats lightly at his hand.  
  
His concentration broken, Fai huffs and sets himself on the bed, next to the boy. "So, what do you do with your snot?"  
  
"What."   
  
Fai raises his eyebrows, smiles wide. "Have you heard the comparisons between snot and come? They're both sticky and sort of runny."  
  
"Why are you even— Never mind." The boy runs a hand through his hair, staring at Fai as though he's grown a third eye.   
  
"In fact, mucus has equal parts protein and carbs," Fai continues, "although it doesn't contribute much to your overall nutrition. If you were to eat it."  
  
"Are you trying to make me lose my appetite? Because it's not working." Youou narrows his eyes. "Or are you just trying to make me lose interest in you, period."  
  
"Both?" Fai smiles his most innocent smile. "I figure you might kick me out of your room."  
  
The boy sighs, reaches around Fai—a shiver ripples across his skin—for a pillow, thumping him soundly over the head.  
  
Fai yelps. "This is not how you start a pillow fight! I'm old and fragile!"   
  
But he's grabbing the folded blankets left on the mattress and using those to defend himself anyway. Youou ignores his protests, whacking his sides heartily with the pillow, lips curved in a smirk. It doesn't actually hurt. Fai complains anyway, loudly, and decides that leaping onto the boy would be the best course of action.   
  
It involves barreling forward with his blankets and shoving them into Youou's chest while getting thoroughly pummeled with the pillow, and it works. Only because the boy let him have the upper hand, probably.   
  
Fai blinks at the sight of the boy pinned halfway beneath him, broad-shouldered and toned biceps, and there's a sudden, tight  _want_  sweeping through his chest.   
  
Youou thumps the pillow over his head. "Something on my face?"  
  
He can't help his grin.   
  
"Yeah, there's a big, black spot right here," Fai says, pokes his cheek with a bony finger. Youou frowns at him. "There's one more here too," he adds, poking the boy's other cheek, and Youou snaps at his hand.  
  
"There's nothing on my face," he says.  
  
"And there's maybe a spot or two here." He taps lightly on Youou's lower lip, soft and silky beneath his fingertip. The boy bares his teeth; Fai lifts the finger out of his reach, and touches that mouth again. It feels good. Like it's in need of many kisses.   
  
"Quit your lying." Youou watches him calmly, the unhappiness from minutes ago skimmed away, and Fai drags his finger across his lip.  
  
"Have you ever wondered why mouths are so soft?" he asks. He taps on that mouth again. "I mean, look."  
  
"No." The boy bites uselessly at his finger—Fai is too quick for him to land a hit. "Stop playing with my face."  
  
The pillow bounces off Fai's head again. He ducks to try and avoid it, and ends up inches from Youou's chest. "Come on," he whines. "You shouldn't bully your elders."  
  
"And you shouldn't be sticking your hands in my face."  
  
"Does that mean I can stick other things in your face?" The question slips off his tongue before he really thinks about it, and Fai freezes, thinking back on it. "Well, no. Probably not."  
  
"Depends on what," Youou says.  
  
For a moment, they stare at each other. Those eyes are intent, watching, and Fai gulps. He can think of lots of things he wants to do with that mouth. "It's not something we should discuss."  
  
Youou's unhurt hand comes up to grab at his shirt. It's not even a forceful tug, but Fai follows it anyway, welcomes the drag of soft lips against his.   
  
(It's a very pleasant kiss.)   
  
He loses track of time, when warm fingers release his shirt and come up to wind into his hair. Something about the kiss changes. There is the comforting brush of lips, and then there is the heavy slide of a tongue, and he's leaning closer, pressing against the boy for heat. Maybe they're grinding into the other's hip, maybe there's a hand coming up to squeeze his ass. Fai gasps, and the boy is hard against him, a solid line indenting his flank. Heat swoops low in his belly.  
  
(He wants more.)  
  
Someone knocks on the door. It doesn't register through the thick desire, and the knock comes again, louder this time. Fai jerks up in surprise, teeth catching on a tongue (there's a sharp breath). He stares at the boy beneath him.  
  
"Dinner's ready, if you guys are up for it."  
  
"We'll be right there," he chirps, his voice strained to his own ears. Youou is wincing, working his tongue around in his mouth.  
  
"You bit me," the boy mutters. His hand falls away from Fai's head; Fai is rolling off and pulling his clothes straight, looking around for a mirror.  
  
"I'm— I'm sorry. That wasn't supposed to happen." He runs his fingers through his hair, patting his cheeks and hoping the flush recedes from them. "Seriously, I'm positive they'll hate me now. I'm destroying their precious son."  
  
"They won't."   
  
"Do you have a mirror? Do I look like a mess?" Fai doesn't turn to look at the boy. He can't. This really isn't supposed to happen, and there is not a single damn mirror in the room. "Why don't you have a mirror?"  
  
"I'm not that vain, you idiot." The boy is still nursing his tongue, and from the corner of his eye, Fai sees him sticking his tongue out to look at it.   
  
"You're not bleeding or anything. I'm sorry!" Fai twists on himself to do another inspection. "Do I look okay?"  
  
Youou snorts. "You look fine. Now get out of here."  
  
Fai doesn't really believe him, but at least his clothes seem decently straight. Youou gets to his feet, still a little disheveled. Fai winces. "You look like you were just in bed!"  
  
"Which I was, damn you."   
  
He ignores it, reaches up to smooth messy black hair and straighten the boy's rumpled shirt. "Better now. You can go out first."  
  
Youou rolls his eyes. He does allow Fai to push him out of the room, though, and Fai wears his most polite smile heading out. He's positive the parents know what's going on.  
  
Dinner is waiting for them on the kitchen table. Youou's parents are engaged in quiet conversation when Youou steps in. Fai follows behind. He can't help flushing slightly when they look at him, and he hates himself for being so transparent.  
  
"I'm sorry, we got caught up in a discussion," he says cheerily, patting the boy on his arm. "Your son is very charming."  
  
From the sideways look Youou gives him, Fai is certain that the boy is calling him on his bullshit in every language he knows.   
  
"He's very smart, isn't he," Youou's dad says proudly. "Not so great with literature, but he's a star on the field!"  
  
"Dad, stop that!" the boy says uncomfortably, frowning.  
  
"Is he really," Fai answers, perking up. "He doesn't tell me much about his soccer team."  
  
"Because you never asked," Youou mutters.  
  
"Be polite to our guest, Youou," his mother says. She's smiling, though, and Fai sees again how fond Youou's parents are of him. It's nice. He's never had that.  
  
"Well, I'm asking about your team now," Fai says.  
  
Youou clicks his tongue, but he does elaborate on the people he plays with. Fai listens.  
  
Dinner goes far better than the previous time. Perhaps it's because Fai is more familiar with the boy's parents, or perhaps he knows better where he stands with them, and the things he can say to divert their attentions. It feels like they're more friends than strangers when they smile and share stories from their lives, when they ask if things at Fai's work are getting less busy these days.  
  
Fai is just relieved that they don't talk about his reasons for apparently moving back, and stuff like that.  
  
"We'll be away for a few days this week," Youou's mom says when they're almost done with dinner. "I'll be having a surgery at the hospital. Youou will be home alone for a bit—is it okay for him to go to you if he needs help with anything?"  
  
Fai darts a glance at the boy, who is frowning at his mother. He isn't sure what this means for either of them. It almost sounds dangerous. Like something he shouldn't be agreeing to. "Sure. I'd be happy to help."  
  
"I don't need help," Youou grumbles. There isn't heat in his tone, though. "I can do things myself."  
  
"Well, it's just a precaution," his father says, reaching over to ruffle his hair. The boy shoots him a dirty look. "It's always better to have someone you can trust around, right?"  
  
Fai doesn't tell them that he's the last person they should rely on.  
  
The boy's parents thank him. They tell him how much they appreciate having him as their neighbor. Fai is certain they're saying that only because he keeps the hell to himself and doesn't play loud music and do obnoxious things.   
  
(They don't know that he wants their son, too.)  
  
In the end, they chat for a bit over a dessert of sliced fruit, and Fai relaxes enough to tease Youou, much to the boy's aggravation. He volunteers to do the dishes this time; the parents emphatically decline his offer. Youou is the one to wash up instead while Fai hovers around him, peering into his own kitchen. He's left the blinds open. It looks unexpectedly dark in there, and lonely.  
  
"So this is what it looks like," he remarks, casually slipping his hands into his pockets. "Looks kind of empty next to yours."  
  
"Because you haven't unpacked half your stuff yet," the boy mutters, glancing askance at him. "Are you going to?"  
  
Fai shrugs. "Maybe."  
  
Youou heaves a sigh. "When are you going to decide?"  
  
"Don't know."  
  
"You need to make your mind up at some point. Or the landlady bitch is going to kick you out."   
  
He raises his eyebrows. "Mind your language?"  
  
"No. She's a witch." Youou frowns as he rinses the dishes off and sets them on the drying rack. The wrinkle on his forehead deepens when Fai chuckles. "You don't think so?"  
  
Fai jerks his shoulders. "She's not that bad. I think she likes me." The boy glances dubiously at him, and he amends, "not in that way."  
  
"Right."  
  
The dishes are done shortly. Fai glances to the brightly-lit doorway of the kitchen, and back at the dark windows of his own apartment. He doesn't want to return home. It's lonely there, and cold. Just the thought of staying around the boy and drawing him into another kiss is tempting, but he's got himself into enough trouble, and he  _still_  needs to end this.  
  
The boy follows him to the door after the numerous goodbyes to his parents. They end up outside Fai's apartment again, and Fai bites his lip when the boy steps closer, red eyes dropping to his mouth.  
  
"We really should stop this," Fai says. "It's getting you nowhere."  
  
"We're getting somewhere," the boy retorts. "You wouldn't even let me touch you some weeks back."  
  
He doesn't meet those eyes. The less Youou knows about his desire for touch, the better. It can and will be used against him. Fai isn't able to resist those hugs, and those kisses, and he's so goddamn weak for it that it's a surprise the boy even lingers.   
  
"This is a mistake," he mutters.  
  
"It's not," the boy says.  
  
"Yes, it fucking is," Fai hisses, lifting his chin to glare at him. "You don't see it, because you're still a minor. You will change as you grow older. I don't want to manipulate you, and I don't want to hurt you. I've hurt enough people."  
  
" _I've_  hurt enough people." Youou looks levelly at him, and he is so close that Fai can feel the heat radiating off his body, just within reach. "Just because I—"  
  
"I'm going to die," Fai says, on an impulse. "I will die, and you won't be able to stop it."  
  
The change in the boy is swift and frightening. His pupils constrict, and his breathing grows sharp. Fai takes a step back, meets the neutral wood of his door. He has a moment to realize that maybe he should have got the door open before he did this.  
  
"See," he says, tone flat. "I'm not good for you."  
  
"You aren't the one to decide shit like that," Youou snarls, clenched fist coming up. Fai flinches; the boy grabs him by the collar of his shirt, hauling him forward, and he tenses, certain that he will really die here, in an elevator lobby with no witnesses.  
  
He isn't going to shout for help. He deserves to die, really.  
  
"You're going to live, damn you," the boy hisses inches from his face. "Don't make me punch you."  
  
Fai glances at the boy's other hand. It's still in a cast, and it has to be very solid, and very heavy. He could possibly die from that. "You might want to," he whispers. "Or should I start talking about how people die and—"  
  
The door slams into his back; his skull bounces off wood, and it  _hurts_. Fai gasps. Pain blooms in his head. Stars wink into his vision.   
  
"Stop talking like that," the boy growls, red eyes dangerous.   
  
"Do that a few more times," Fai says, wincing, "and you won't have to anymore."  
  
Youou stops and stares at him, chest heaving, and Fai watches the way he blinks and really looks at him, at Fai's limp, sad body. He lets go abruptly; Fai sags against his door, his heart galloping.   
  
"Damn it," Youou mutters, turning away, fists clenched. "I didn't— I didn't mean to do that. I— Sorry."  
  
Fai shakes his head. His skull is throbbing. "Go home, Youou."  
  
"I can't leave you here like this," the boy says, turning back. Fai grimaces when he reaches over again. The reaction is enough to give the boy pause; he hesitates, drops his hand. "Are you hurt?"  
  
Fai snorts weakly. "Funny you should ask."  
  
"I'm serious."  
  
He reaches for the back of his head, prods where it still hurts. His scalp is dry and a little greasy, but otherwise fine. "I think I'll get a bump. That's all."  
  
"Do you need a doctor?" Youou's shoulders have sagged, and he looks slightly smaller than he is. "Or medicine?"  
  
Fai shakes his head again. "I'm fine. Just go. I think you'll realize that it's better we don't do stuff like this again."  
  
The boy stays quiet, and Fai grabs the chance to fish around in his pocket. The key goes into the door in record speed.   
  
"Hey." There's a hand around his elbow, and Fai tenses. He turns his head jerkily, meets that coppery gaze. "I'm sorry. I'll— I'll stop. Sorry. I just—" The boy stops to take a deep breath. "I cannot— I don't want to— to lose you."  
  
Fai shakes his head, pulls his arm back. Youou releases him. "You'll find that it's better for you to. Go home. You'll get over me."  
  
The boy lowers his eyes and steps back, and Fai shuts his door.  
  
This is for the best.  
  
  
  
  
He packs, slowly.  
  
  
  
  
His phone buzzes late Monday afternoon.  
  
_I got my cast removed today. Hope you're ok._  
  
The rest of their text conversation is still there when Fai clears the notification on his phone, and he hovers a finger to delete the entire thing.   
  
He finds that he can't. Violence or otherwise, he is still attached to the boy. There is a bump on his head, and Fai has lowered his kitchen blinds again, but it didn't stop his stomach from jolting when he heard Youou that morning.   
  
Fai contemplates a relationship again, dismisses the idea. He looks at the few sketches of the boy on his desk. Logic declares it pointless to pursue anything with the boy. He will change, and tire of Fai when his priorities shift. Fai cannot be trusted with anything, especially not the tender heart of a teenage boy. It won't work out. They'll both be heartbroken, and that will be that.  
  
He goes back to talking with computers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... yup. Surprise! 
> 
> Thank you all for the comments/kudos/etc :) :) I've been having a mysterious fever the past couple days, so that's no fun. Work on the Piffle arc is progressing slowly but surely - check out my tumblr for updates if interested. Am back in the "my writing sucks" rut lol. I still love this fic so much though. :)


	6. Surgery

Mrs Suwa's surgery is today. Fai catches glimpses of the boy's parents talking to him before he leaves for school. He leaves soon after, himself, for work.   
  
Fai isn't very familiar with surgeries. All he knows is that they involve doctors and scalpels and pain. So, he doesn't think about it, keeps his mind on debugging and algorithms and that sort of thing. He shoves his glasses up his nose, tugs his hoodie up over his head, and coaxes keyboards away from being so stubborn.  
  
It's late when he gets home. All he really wants to do then is make a pot of instant noodles. Two packets of dried noodles goes into boiling water—he's kind of hungry—and two eggs, and two sausages. And a handful of veggies.  
  
His mind wanders into the next kitchen. Fai talks aloud to himself so he doesn't think about the boy, and waits for his noodles to be done.  
  
He still can't use chopsticks.  
  
The doorbell rings when he's got a forkful of noodles pulled two feet up in the air to cool. Fai jumps, winces when the noodles go everywhere on the stove and splatter soup onto his shirt. He grabs the noodles, shoves them back into his pot, and wipes his hands on his pants.   
  
(Fai is such a mess.)  
  
The boy is outside. Fai jerks away from the peephole, his heart kicking into a steady thump-thump-thump. The back of his head aches a little bit.   
  
He's made a promise, though, and so Fai opens the door, instant smile pasted on his face. "Hello."  
  
"Can I come in?"   
  
Youou doesn't look too good. His eyes are narrowed, his shoulders hunched, and he doesn't move the slightest bit.  
  
Fai blinks, bites his lip. He promised.  
  
"Okay."  
  
The boy follows him into the apartment. Fai shuts the door and wipes his greasy fingers off again.   
  
"Have you had dinner? I have some food if you're hungry."  
  
Youou shakes his head. "Not hungry."  
  
"Does that mean you've eaten?" Another shake. Fai thinks back to his pot of sad, yellow soup and noodles. "I, um, just cooked some instant noodles. You're welcome to have some."  
  
He leaves the boy fiddling with his phone, steps back into the kitchen, where there's some semblance of space for him to think.   
  
Carefully, Fai divides his pot of noodles into two, making sure to keep the fallen noodles for himself. This is really no way to treat a guest—the boy's parents have done so much better—but he doesn't have anything at hand, and the noodles are already done.  
  
"Sorry," Fai says when he emerges from the kitchen, fork in each bowl of steaming noodles. "It's not actually ramen, or anything close to what your mom makes, but it's all I've got at the moment. I'll make something better if you really don't like it."  
  
Youou looks passively at the noodles and back at his phone, and Fai allows himself to think about the surgery.  
  
Bowl in hand, he asks, "any news?"  
  
Youou shakes his head.  
  
"You'll hear from them soon," he says, not meaning it at all, and red eyes swivel to meet his.   
  
"What do you know," the boy says, his expression severe. Fai feels his stomach plummet into the couch.  
  
"Nothing, of course. Don't mind me."   
  
They fall into silence while Fai slurps most of his noodles down. He's still kind of hungry when all that's left in his bowl is salt-laden soup, and he glances at the untouched bowl on the coffee table. The boy hasn't looked at it at all.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want any?" Youou frowns at him. Fai shrugs. "There's an egg and sausage in here. I'll steal some of your noodles."  
  
"Sure."  
  
The boy finally looks at him when he tries picking carefully at the noodles, trying to avoid stabbing into the egg in their midst. The noodles drip soup on the table when he drags them into his bowl, and Fai winces. He gives up, slurps them from the other bowl instead.  
  
"Just eat the whole thing," Youou says.  
  
"No," Fai says through his food. "You need to eat the good stuff, at least. I mean the egg," he adds when the boy raises a skeptical eyebrow. "And the sausage."   
  
"What happened to your cooking?" the boy asks. His eyes grow sharper, and Fai avoids his gaze. "I thought you cooked better than this."  
  
Abruptly, Fai stops eating from his bowl. He bites his noodles off, shoves the bowl into the boy's hands. "Eat your dinner."  
  
"You aren't answering my question."  
  
"Maybe if you eat, I'll talk."  
  
And it works. Youou starts to scoop the leftover noodles and veggies into his mouth. When he's done, he sets the bowl down, and Fai takes the dishes back into the kitchen. He pulls two glasses out—water for the boy, wine for himself. He needs something to get through tonight.  
  
"You've packed," the boy says behind him. His voice is low, furious. Fai has discovered that Youou is angry when he's scared, and it's something that shouldn't endear the boy to him, but it does. "That why you're eating crap? 'Cause you're moving out soon?"  
  
Fai takes a long swallow of wine, presses the water into Youou's hand. At least the cast is off—it's no longer a reminder of that mistake. "That was quite a bit of salt. Drink some water."  
  
"You said you were going to talk if I ate." Youou follows him back to the couch. Fai downs another mouthful of sweet wine, feels that liquid heat slide down into his stomach.   
  
"Yes, I'm moving out."  
  
It settles into the dust between them, that admission. Hurt flashes through the boy's eyes. He sets his glass on the table, sits heavily down on the couch, a foot away from Fai.  
  
"I don't want you to go," he says. "How do I change your mind?"  
  
Fai looks away. "I don't know. Grow older, maybe."  
  
"That's it?" Youou stares at him, incredulous, and he's curling his fingers into fists. "Grow older?"  
  
"I've told you. I don't deserve you."  
  
"You've never said that."   
  
Fai chances a glance at the boy, who's turned fully towards him, his lips full of protest. When he smiles, it's wry and thin. "Now you know."  
  
"Why? I think— I think you're enough. More than enough. Are you an idiot?"  
  
He pulls a deep breath in, wets his lips. "I'm the worst person alive, Youou. You should know that as well."  
  
The boy works his jaw, red eyes sparking. "You aren't."  
  
And then Fai is talking, spilling before he loses his courage.   
  
"I had a brother once. A— A twin. We were... always together. You know how that goes. And then he fell sick, and we were caught out in the snow, and he... He died. While I was trying to get help. I wasn't even there—"  
  
It still hurts, thinking about it. Fai isn't expecting the way his face crumples at the memory. He pulls his knees up, curls his arms around himself and hides, tries to push his thoughts away. That isn't all to it, but he can't think about it without crying. Yuui had been a safe place before he became a gaping hole in Fai's chest.  
  
There had been talk about jails and sentences, and Fai hadn't thought their foster parents had disliked them to the extent of hoisting him into prison. All while he hadn't been able to get over the fact that he had been lost, and Yuui had died alone.  
  
Someone takes the glass out of his hand, and there's suddenly heat wrapped around him, tight and protective and quiet.   
  
Fai shudders, leans into it. He doesn't have the strength to refuse something like that. All he is, is a pile of useless, worthless—  
  
"Hey," Youou says in his ear. Fai tenses. "You need to stop digging holes into your legs."  
  
He blinks his tears away, looks warily out through a crack in his limbs. A hand comes to pry his fingers off his knees, and Fai is surprised at the gentleness in their touch. He's only registering now that he's been clawing at himself, and Youou's fingers are slow and firm on his.   
  
"Why are you even doing this?" Fai croaks, allowing the boy to rub the tension out of his hands. His breath stutters in his throat; he feels like a shaking mess, and he's in no shape to look at anyone, much less take care of the boy.  
  
"I care for you."  
  
It's enough to make tears well up in his eyes again. Fai buries his face back in his knees, feeling the edges of his heart begin to splinter. "I'm just a—"  
  
"Shut up," Youou says loudly. "What happened in the past, happened in the past. I can't change it. Neither can you. But I don't think it's as much your fault as you seem to think it is."  
  
Fai sniffles, disbelieving. He finds a wad of tissue shoved into the crook of his elbow, and snorts a quiet laugh. "It's still my fault. Lots of things are."  
  
"Tch."   
  
Those arms are back around him again, and he relaxes bonelessly, scrubbing his face with the lump of tissue.   
  
"I didn't think I'd be coming over to comfort you.  _My_  Ma's in the hospital."  
  
"Well, mine's dead," Fai tells him dryly. Youou stiffens against him. "Never really knew my parents."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"So it's nice that you've got yours, you know? Looking at you guys makes me realize what a family should really be about."  
  
"How'd you even grow up, then?" the boy demands, leaning away to scrutinize him.  
  
Fai grimaces. He waves at Youou, and when that doesn't stop the boy from looking, turns away himself. "Don't look at me right now. I'm ugly."  
  
"Shut up. You're not." Fai makes a face. Youou swats at his arm. "How'd you grow up?"  
  
"Foster families." A gulp later, "twins are a drain on their resources. We got shuffled around. Some people didn't really realize it until after they got over how we looked."  
  
Youou's face hardens with resolve. "When my Ma recovers, you're going to come over more often," he says. "She and my Dad like having you over. You can be a part of our family."  
  
Fai gapes at him. "I'm not— I don't even—"   
  
"Tch. You're an idiot, you know?" The boy hugs him tighter, and Fai fights the urge to snuggle close. "It doesn't really have to mean anything. Just come over and be friends."  
  
"But I suck at the friends thing too."   
  
"Then come over and shut up and eat." Youou shoves at his head with a fingertip. "You did fine the last time."  
  
"Except we were doing things in your room that we weren't supposed to." Fai heaves a sigh, buries his face in his knees. "I'm a dirty old man, you know. You shouldn't be doing things like that with me."  
  
Youou flicks him in the arm, and Fai yelps. "Thirty is not old. Idiot. I liked it."  
  
"I'm still twice your age."   
  
"Not anymore. I'm seventeen now."   
  
Fai wriggles half-heartedly in the boy's arms. Youou doesn't release him. "It's still a huge age difference. I don't think your parents would want you sleeping with some weird old guy."  
  
"Who I sleep with is none of their business. 'Sides, I'd rather we be dating. Like, officially."  
  
Fai snorts. "We won't."  
  
Youou leans in. He presses a kiss to Fai's temple, through his hair, and Fai slips his eyes shut. Maybe he should be surprised when a large hand comes up to touch his face, but those calloused fingers are warm and kind, tracing his forehead to the side of his cheek, and over his ear. It feels good. Fai holds still, wanting more.  
  
The fingers smooth along his neck, down his jaw, sending little shivers across his skin. He can't help tilting his head back, when Youou's touch drifts to his chin and down his throat. The boy huffs.  
  
"You're like a cat," he rumbles, running his fingers up the other side of Fai's face. Fai keeps his eyes shut, leans into that touch. It's comforting somehow, and he exhales long and slow when the boy runs his fingers through his hair, gently rubbing his scalp.   
  
"Not a cat," Fai murmurs. Those fingers slide back down to his throat, drift up to his mouth and cheeks. He noses at them. "Have you had a cat?"  
  
"Long time ago."   
  
"Mm." He relaxes when Youou's entire hand brushes up his cheek and into his hair, and down to the nape of his neck.   
  
The boy presses close to nip at his ear. Fai makes a little pleased sound at the back of his throat, hums when Youou slips fingers along his clavicles, dips them past the collar of his shirt.   
  
"More?" Youou asks, a low, hot breath in his ear. Fai shivers, nods. They can't stop this now. It feels good, and he wants more, wants those hands all over him.  
  
Youou fumbles a bit with the first button. His fingers brush across Fai's chest, and Fai finds himself pulling his limbs away from himself, in hesitating invitation. Another button pops open.  
  
His shirt falls entirely open soon enough. Youou's hand splays warm down his midriff, and he's arching his spine, purring when Youou rubs up his chest and down to his belly.   
  
"Definitely a cat," the boy says, slipping his hand around to Fai's waist, and dragging it up his side.   
  
"I don't care," Fai whispers, his eyes still firmly shut, twisting himself around to allow Youou any access he wants. His skin sings with that touch. "Just don't stop."  
  
Youou drops light kisses down the side of his neck, wet, sucking kisses, and Fai gasps, his fingers curling into the boy's inner thigh. Youou's breath hitches. They're just touching, and... it feels good. He's not thinking.  
  
Youou's fingers dip past his waistband.   
  
It sends an arrow of heat shooting straight down his gut. His heart kicks. Fai squirms, spreads his thighs. He's half-hard, and he wants to see how the boy reacts to touching him. When he cracks his eyes open, red eyes are staring at him, fingers slipping towards his groin. Fai licks his lips. His heartbeat is picking up, and he wants this to go faster, now.  
  
"What do you want?" Youou asks.  
  
"Touch me," he says, lifting his hips.   
  
The boy's eyes grow darker. "Where?"  
  
"Everywhere. Now."   
  
Youou tugs on the fastenings of his pants, and Fai's mouth goes dry, as if he were in a desert. He writhes, impatient, whimpers when his fly comes undone, and Youou rubs the backs of his fingers over him, stroking him through his underwear. He hasn't felt up to wearing panties today, but the boy is captivated all the same. His broad chest is rising and falling, and his eyes are glued to the spot between Fai's legs.  
  
Blood pools hot in his groin, increasing the pressure in his briefs. Youou strokes a firm thumb down the curve of his cock. Fai gasps.  
  
The boy leans in to kiss him, open mouth meshing against his, and Fai welcomes it, moans into him when the boy's fingers ease past fabric, smoothing firmly along his cock and cupping his balls. His own fingers skim over taut cloth, finding the boy hard under his clothes, and it sends such a wave of  _want_  through him that he's pressing insistently into Youou's fingers in a few pounding heartbeats.  
  
Youou's kiss is hungry, almost demanding, full of lips and tongue, and Fai can't help rocking into his palm, needing more friction than this.   
  
He's leaking wet when the boy finally breaks the kiss to look between them. He's got Fai's erection freed of his clothes, now, and it's red and glistening in his palm. Youou's fingers are damp.  
  
"You like?" Fai gasps, thrusting into his hand. Youou groans, squeezes his fingers around him. Fai whimpers. "C'mon."  
  
"Been thinking 'bout it," the boy rasps, leaning in to kiss him messily. It doesn't last long; he pulls away, kisses down Fai's chest, to his belly, and takes him into his mouth.  
  
They groan at the same time. Youou's mouth is snug and wet, and Fai can't help jerking his hips, his breath stuttering when Youou licks around him, and sucks and bobs his head. It feels so  _good_.  
  
"Stop," he grits, when his thighs start to spasm, and his pulse is throbbing in Youou's mouth.  
  
The boy pulls halfway off, his lips still wrapped around the tip of Fai's erection. The sight has Fai groaning and dripping into his mouth; Youou laps at him, and Fai's eyelids flutter shut.  
  
"Your turn," he says thickly, pushing on the boy's shoulders so he pulls off with a wet  _pop_. Youou's mouth is red and wet, and Fai leans in to kiss him. Youou's tongue is rough, his teeth sharp.  
  
His fingers make short work of the boy's pants. Youou groans and rocks into his fingers the moment Fai unzips his fly, and Fai reaches in, purring when he finds the thick, hard line of the boy's erection. His boxers are damp, and so is his tip. Fai rubs his thumb over that dusky, bouncy head—Youou ruts up at him, swearing, slipping silkily along his fingers—and Fai is climbing onto his lap, squeezing in close so he pushes up against Youou's cock with his own, wetness smearing between them.  
  
"Fuck," the boy says, looking down between them. "That's hot as hell."  
  
"I've— I've thought about it for a while," Fai gasps shakily, rolling his hips in so they're grinding together. "Use your hand."   
  
Youou wraps his hand around them; Fai uses his shoulders as leverage, fucks into the boy's hand. Youou's cock is heavy and wet against his, better than he's imagined, and he wants it on him, everywhere. The boy groans, drops his face into Fai's shoulder.   
  
"I— I don't want to come yet," Fai pants, still rocking into Youou's hand. They're both slick now, and his balls are tight and heavy.   
  
"What do you— What do you want to do?" Youou groans, thrusting up at him. Pre-come oozes out of his tip, dribbling down, and Fai shudders helplessly, panting.   
  
He pulls out of Youou's grip with a lot of effort, cock straining between them. "Do you want me inside you?"  
  
"Inside?" The boy licks his lips. His pupils are dark and wide, and he's absently stroking his thumb over himself. "Here?"  
  
"In the kitchen."   
  
Youou nods, still staring at him, and Fai climbs unsteadily off his lap. He shrugs out of his pants and underwear on the way; the boy does the same, sheds his shirt as well, and Fai points him to the floor. "Lie down."  
  
He grabs the little plastic dispenser of cooking oil, settles down onto Youou's hips, and groans at the firm press of his erection. The boy grunts, ruts up at him.  
  
He can't help the way he's still leaking onto Youou's stomach. Fai wets one hand with oil, leans down to kiss the boy, who returns it with desperate fervor when Fai wraps his other hand around his cock, pumping him steadily. When he reaches behind, down between Youou's legs, the boy stiffens, then slowly relaxes, allowing his fingers access.   
  
"It'll feel good," Fai says, his voice throaty, and squirms down to massage his entrance, slicking it up.  
  
He takes the boy into his mouth; Youou's hips snap up, and he's swearing, stomach clenched. His cock is thick on Fai's tongue, delicious, and it's little time before Fai works his first finger in.  
  
"You know how this works?" he asks the boy when he pulls off, licking up the underside of his erection.   
  
"Read 'bout it," Youou mutters, and swears again when Fai curls his finger inside. He's dripping wet when Fai adds another finger, stretching, and Fai drops little suckling kisses up his length, laving his tip with his tongue. Youou's hips lift right off the floor. "Fuck," he hisses.  
  
"Are you really sure about this?" Fai asks, when he shuffles up to the boy's ass, his own cock slicked and heavy.   
  
"Fuck. Don't stop now," Youou growls, and Fai presses slowly into him, groaning at the  _wet_  and  _tight_  of his body. Youou bares his teeth, tips his head back, and swears.  
  
He waits for the boy to adjust, sliding in little by little. By the time, he's all the way in, Youou's pupils are blown, and his breath is ragged.  
  
"Okay?" Fai whispers.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He pulls out a little, slides home, and the boy gasps.  
  
Breathlessly, "fuck!"  
  
"Does it hurt?"  
  
"Feels good. Keep going."   
  
He withdraws, slides back in, and Youou shudders. His cock is very thick and red between them.   
  
"More."  
  
Fai slides in again, slides home, and by the time he builds a rhythm, the boy is panting beneath him, leaking liberally all over his belly. Fai is trembling, himself, barely holding on—he hasn't done this in a while and it feels like bliss—and when he reaches between them to stroke Youou, the boy jerks beneath him.  
  
"Gonna come," he hisses.   
  
Those words suck the breath right out of his lungs. He's shoving hard into snug heat, balls tight, and when he comes, it's with a blinding rush of pleasure, his back arching, mouth agape, his groan high and choked. Youou clenches tight around him.  
  
When he blinks his vision back, there's a mess of white on Youou's chest, and he's gasping for breath, head tipped against the cool tile of the kitchen floor.  
  
"I didn't— I didn't get to see you come," Fai pants, disappointed. He sits back down on the floor, withdrawing from the boy.  
  
"I came when you did," Youou mutters. He looks to the side, cheeks dark. "Maybe we need to do this again. Just so you can see."  
  
Fai flushes. "We weren't supposed to do this."  
  
"Says the person who invited me into his kitchen." The boy sits up, winces a little.  
  
Fai leans over in concern. "Did I hurt you?"  
  
His eyes drop down to the boy's groin, as if he can really tell, but there's really no indication of any injury. Instead, all he sees are the wet remnants of sex, things he cannot hide from the fluorescent light of the kitchen lamp.  
  
"I'm fine," Youou says, leaving himself open. "Just sore."  
  
"Sorry." Fai glances away, guilty. The boy reaches over to nudge his head.   
  
"Nothing you have to be sorry about. I agreed, remember?"  
  
Fai winces anyway. "The last time you said you were fine, you had a fracture."  
  
"I'm really fine this time. Tch." Youou rolls onto his feet and stands, and Fai is momentarily distracted by the sheer beauty of his physique. "Give me a few days to recover."  
  
He turns to go. Fai's stomach clenches at the thought of the boy leaving.   
  
"Where are you going?" he yelps, his voice a little higher than he intended.  
  
"Shower. I'm all sweaty now." Fai blushes at the way red eyes wander over him. "You coming?"  
  
"I, um, need my back scrubbed," Fai mutters. He scrambles to his feet, frowns at how the boy picks his way through the apartment so easily. "You walk around like you own this place or something."  
  
"Tch. I live next door. Not like the floor plans are that different."  
  
Fai has a moment to feel sheepish, before he swats at the boy. "You could've asked."  
  
Youou rolls his eyes. "You expect me to go home like that?"   
  
"Fine. Use my shower. I expect a back scrub as compensation."  
  
The boy smirks, and Fai's stomach flops. "Sure."  
  
The shower ends up a lot more pleasant, and a lot less charged, than Fai imagines. They barely fit into the shower stall. Fai has to reach around Youou for his soap and shampoo. Several times, he brushes up against the boy, who is content to have their bodies remain in contact, slick with soap and hot water. It feels nice like that, safe.  
  
Maybe the boy slips his arms around his waist, and maybe his fingers linger on Fai's skin. Maybe they kiss more than once.  
  
Youou scrubs Fai's back while he's plastered against his chest, somewhat shielded from the needling spray.   
  
"You're going to be so tall when you grow up," Fai says into his shoulder. "I mean, I'm kind of tall, but you're going to be a  _giant_. That's amazing."  
  
Youou glances up at the bar of the shower curtain. "Hopefully I don't grow too tall."  
  
"It won't be that much more, I don't think." Fai nuzzles into the wet skin of his shoulder, wraps his arms around the boy. He's not thinking about anything else right now. This is fine, him and Youou in this little bubble of his shower.  
  
The boy shrugs after some time. "You gonna stay here forever, or what?"  
  
"Yes, I am," Fai says. "Everything other than this does not exist."  
  
"Tch. I still have to find out how my Ma is doing."  
  
Fai jerks away from him then, horrified that he's forgotten. "Oh. Right. Sorry."   
  
"Don't do that." Youou frowns. He reaches behind to turn the shower off, but Fai's already pressed against cold, wet tile, keeping as much distance from him as he possibly can.  
  
"Do what?" Fai swallows, looks away. Of course there's something he's screwed up on. He keeps screwing up. This has been too good to be an exception.  
  
"Running from me. I'm not blaming you for anything." The boy reaches for him; Fai slides away, to the furthest corner of the shower.  
  
"I'm not— I didn't say you were blaming me," Fai mumbles, trembling when Youou's fingers come up to trail along his arm.  
  
"It's on your face." The boy pulls away, draws the curtain and steps out. He grabs a towel from the clean, folded ones on a shelf. "You hate yourself."  
  
Fai has nothing to say to that.  
  
"C'mon, don't just stand there."   
  
Youou tosses a towel in his face; Fai splutters, turns away to dry himself. He's still not used to having the boy see all of him.   
  
"Look, I think you're a good person."  
  
A laugh tears from his throat. It's nowhere close to happy, and Fai just wants to pull the curtains shut between them, and hide here until the boy goes home. "Maybe you need glasses."  
  
"I don't. You idiot." The boy wraps the towel around his waist, opens the door. He turns back to look at Fai. "Try not to do anything stupid."  
  
He has the towel pulled tight around himself, trying to conceal as much as possible—but the thought of the boy receiving questionable news alone has Fai darting out of the shower after him, damp feet slapping against tiled floor. "Are you—"  
  
Youou is in the living room, phone in his hand, and for a painful moment, Fai stills, holds his breath. If the boy needs to wreck something, there are things he can smash around. Or maybe he can take his anger or grief out on Fai. At least he will be of use then. The back of his scalp prickles.  
  
He can't see the boy's face, but Youou takes a deep breath and blows it out.   
  
"So... any news?" Fai asks warily, stepping closer.   
  
"She's fine," Youou says. His voice wavers a little, and he gulps. He's still looking down at his phone when Fai rounds his side. "There was... a missed call. But Dad says she's fine. She's under observation now. He texted."  
  
Fai sinks weakly into the couch, towel still draped around his shoulders. "That's— That's good. I'm glad to hear that."  
  
He doesn't want Youou to lose a loved one. From the way he's behaved, Fai is certain that the boy has believed his mother dead at least once, and he doesn't want that to happen again.   
  
(Losing Yuui had felt like his ribs were being sawed apart, his heart and lungs pulled out, before his bones were stapled shut again.)  
  
Youou drops into the couch next to him, hands shaking when he taps on his phone. Fai turns away to give him some privacy when he calls his father. It's not much of any help, when the boy is right next to him, not seeming to care whether Fai hears what he has to say.  
  
The boy asks about his mom, listens to his dad, and tells him that he's at Fai's. He agrees to a few things, then hangs up.  
  
Fai feels keenly the press of Youou's body, when he leans into his side. "So," he says, and swallows. "How are you."  
  
"Feels like I have no strength to move," the boy says. He shifts a bit, rests his head on Fai's shoulder. "I'm just— relieved."  
  
"That's good." Fai doesn't really know what to do about the head on his shoulder. People usually do that and pull away soon after. They don't try to curl up with him. "So. Are you— Are you going home now, then?"  
  
Youou shakes his head.  
  
"Your dad isn't going to come home to find you gone?" Fai winces at that thought. Bad enough that the boy's not at home. He doesn't want to answer the door wearing only a towel.   
  
"He's staying over at the hospital for the night." Youou drops his phone on the far side of the couch, curling his arm around Fai. "He said I can stay here. If you agree."  
  
It's both a good and bad idea. Fai can't decide which it is. But the boy feels safe, and warm, and maybe his bed won't be so lonely with Youou here. His heart thumps guiltily.   
  
"I shouldn't," Fai starts.  
  
"Do you want me to?" The boy nuzzles at his jaw. Fai feels his breath catch.   
  
"Only— Only if we don't do anything."   
  
(Fai is lying, all over again.)  
  
"I can sleep on the couch," Youou says against his skin.  
  
"I can't let you do that," he says, weakly. "It's... too short. You'll hurt your neck."  
  
"Mm. Your bed?" The boy presses closer, tips his face in, and Fai feels the soft touch of Youou's lips on his neck. It's enough to make his skin tingle.   
  
"We're not supposed to be doing this, either," he mumbles, enjoying the kisses too much to move away.  
  
Youou backs off then, bringing his face level with Fai's. "You like the things I do with you."  
  
"I don't," Fai says, but he's looking away, wishing he hasn't said that.  
  
"You're lying."  
  
"I'm not."   
  
The boy kisses him full on the lips, and Fai moans. He wants to be lost in the comfort of it, so he doesn't have to think about why this is wrong and why he shouldn't—  
  
Youou leans back slowly, his breath soughing across Fai's skin, and Fai tips his face up to follow that mouth.  
  
"You like it," the boy says, smug.  
  
Fai cracks his eyes open to frown. "I do not."  
  
Youou rolls his eyes. He peels himself away, looking around. "When do you sleep?"  
  
Fai coughs. It sounds almost like a reminder of the baking incident, and he can't help the flush on his cheeks. "When I'm not baking? About midnight."   
  
Youou opens his mouth, pauses. "Are you baking today?"  
  
There's a hint of pink on his ears, though, that is very telling. Fai shakes his head. "No. I don't have the ingredients for it."  
  
"Because you were planning on moving out," the boy remembers. Fai isn't able to help his grimace. "What do you do when you aren't baking?"   
  
"What's this, Twenty Questions?" He gives the boy a wan smile, rearranges his towel so it fits around him better. "I draw."  
  
"Were you gonna draw tonight?"   
  
Fai shrugs. "Maybe. I was kind of tired though."   
  
"Then can I change your mind about moving?" Youou slips his arms around Fai, pulling him up onto his lap. Fai's towel slips. Red eyes follow that descent; Fai tugs it back around himself, but it doesn't really hide much when he draws his legs up. He should have wrapped it around his waist when he had the chance. "Or do you want me to touch you again."  
  
He gulps. The boy is six— seventeen, and Fai hasn't had enough of his touch, or his body.   
  
Youou reaches between them, stroking lightly over his balls, and Fai's eyes flutter shut. He can't help the sweep of heat through his gut.  
  
"We just showered," he protests, shivers.  
  
"We can shower again."   
  
None of his excuses hold much weight when he runs them through his mind. They've already had sex once. The boy isn't due home. They've seen each other naked.  
  
Fai groans, drops his forehead onto Youou's shoulder. "You aren't supposed to make me want you this much."  
  
The boy sucks a sharp breath. "You want me, then."  
  
"No, I don't." Fai shakes his head, as if that'll convince either of them.  
  
"Make up your damn mind."   
  
"If we have enough sex, maybe it'll pass," Fai says, believing it. "Maybe I'll get you out of my system."  
  
Abruptly, the boy pulls his hand away.   
  
Fai  _whines_. He spreads his legs, and Youou's hand returns.   
  
"So you're saying that if I keep you horny, you'll want to stay."  
  
"No! It's not supposed to work that way."  
  
"Then how is it supposed to work?"  
  
"I don't know!" He rocks his hips, looks down to see himself half-hard, all over again. "It's just— Relationships aren't— aren't about sex alone. And you're too young. I'm not even fit to be a boyfriend."  
  
Youou heaves a sigh, and dumps Fai unceremoniously on the couch. Fai yelps. "We're not doing this at the same time. Either we do stuff, or we talk."  
  
Fai purses his lips. "We do stuff. End of story."  
  
"I want to talk."  
  
"There's nothing to talk about." He pulls his towel back around himself, frustrated and all too naked.   
  
"Tell me about your twin," Youou says.   
  
Fai winces. Just thinking about it hurts. "I don't want to."   
  
"What's his name?" The boy is still looking at him. It feels as though he's reaching into a part of Fai that's still raw (that may never heal) and prodding it with callous fingers.   
  
He sighs. "Yuui."  
  
It's been a long, long time since that name crossed his lips. Fai thinks it's the only thing he'll ever remember if he loses his mind to dementia. Maybe he won't even remember his own name, and people will call him Yuui because that's all he'd be saying by then.   
  
Youou mouths the name, doesn't say it aloud. "Okay."  
  
"Can we go back to sex?" Fai makes a face, snuggles close to the boy. He slides a hand up that dusky, strong thigh, pouts when Youou promptly removes his hand. "That's not fair. I answered your question."  
  
"No. I have more questions. Like why you hate yourself so much." Youou frowns at him. "I heard you about your brother, but that's part of the past. I don't think he'd want you to remain unhappy like that."  
  
"You don't know anything about him," Fai hisses, a new heat welling in his middle. It burns him raw, and it hurts. "Don't you dare tell me—"  
  
"It's what my Ma told me." Youou looks sidelong at him. "We— We're aware that she might not— might not make it through one of her ops. She said she wants my Dad and me to be happy no matter what."  
  
The thing of it is, Fai can imagine Yuui saying that to him. Yuui had loved him, and if their positions were reversed, that is what Fai would want for his twin. It hurts all the same.  
  
"Don't do this to me," he mumbles, his voice twisting and breaking and flagging. Fai covers his face with his hands, trying to hide because it hurts, and there's no way out of losing Yuui.   
  
"You need to know that he doesn't want this for you," Youou says quietly. "I think he'd rather you have people and friends who care about you."  
  
Fai sobs, raw and broken all over again.  
  
Strong arms come to wrap around him. He can't even push them away, as angry as he's supposed to be with the boy. Yuui would blame Fai for leaving him alone. But Yuui had also loved him, and tried to give him his own share of things, like treats and toys and clothes.   
  
(Fai misses his twin very, very much.)  
  
The boy doesn't say any more, but he remains next to Fai, a solid weight that shifts every now and then.   
  
When he can eventually speak, Fai raises his head to find an almost-empty glass of water pushed in front of him. He's thirsty.  
  
"Drink up."  
  
"I'm supposed to be an adult," he croaks when the glass is empty and the boy has taken it away from him. "Not some stupid crybaby sitting around while you wait on me."  
  
Youou snorts. "I expect the favor to be returned, then. You can wait on me some other time."  
  
It sounds unexpectedly pleasant. Maybe it's the thought of being needed, or being of use somehow. "You can always find someone better."  
  
"Now you owe me," the boy says, and shoves lightly at his head. "Tch. I told you. I like you. I don't mind waiting. If you really want, I'll wait until I'm twenty, and then ask you out again."  
  
It's not a bad idea. Fai is certain that the boy will lose interest by then. "You might be on to something there," he says. "Wait three years."  
  
Youou nods. "Okay. But in the meantime, you have to promise not to move."   
  
Fai bites his lip.   
  
"If you move, my Dad and Ma are going to be sad. They like having you as a neighbor." Youou pulls away to refill the glass of water. When he returns, he hands it back to Fai, who gulps half of it down. "See. The way I see it, if some stupid jerk moves in here and makes a bunch of noise, my parents are going to be unhappy. We had to move out of the last place because our neighbors kept playing loud music in the middle of the night."  
  
Fai cringes. "People actually do that?"  
  
"Yeah." The boy shrugs and shuffles closer. "So if you don't mind staying here, I'd rather you not move."  
  
He swallows, uncertain. The Suwa family is pleasant. He likes them. It's nice having neighbors he can tolerate and talk to. "I... I guess. Let me think about it."  
  
"All right."   
  
They lapse into silence, and Fai sighs, leaning back against the boy. He doesn't really want to lose this, now that they've established some sort of physical... thing. It's nice, and he shouldn't. He shouldn't keep Youou distracted when he can be looking elsewhere. "You'll have to see other people," Fai says. "Don't hang around me so much."  
  
"I don't want to," the boy says. "Not interested."  
  
"But you can't do that," he protests. "You need to find someone better."  
  
Youou punches him in the arm. "Stop that."   
  
"Ow! I won't have you pining for me an entire three years. You'll get over me." Fai frowns. "Actually, it's better for me to just shut up. You'll see. You'll get over it."  
  
Youou rolls his eyes. "We'll see about that. Idiot."  
  
There's nothing left to say on the topic. It's not something that they can solve right now, so Fai shuts up, tucking his limbs close. They fall into a heavy silence that stretches on for minutes, one that has Fai leaning his chin on his knees. His eyes grow itchy with sleep, and he's drained. Crying over Yuui tends to do that to him.  
  
"I think I'm going to sleep," he mumbles, blinking wearily. "Feel free to... to share my bed."   
  
Youou slants a look at him. "I don't have my sleeping clothes with me."  
  
Fai shrugs. "It's hot here. I sleep naked. It probably offends you."  
  
"Tch. Go to bed already." The boy shoves lightly at him; he swats back without much heat, rolling onto his feet. Fai is halfway across the living room when the towel slips out of his grasp, coming to puddle at his feet.   
  
He's tired, though, and he really doesn't care where it lands at this point.  
  
By the time Youou climbs into the other side of his bed, Fai is drifting off, submerged in that hazy place where everything feels just the slightest bit fuzzy.   
  
"I washed the dishes and locked the door," the boy says.  
  
"Mm."  
  
The lights are not on, and Fai barely registers the boy pressing up close, one hand coming to rest on the small of his back.   
  
"Night," Youou says.  
  
Fai falls asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y/n? :)


	7. Platypus and the Nile

When he wakes, the alarm is beeping to herald the end of the world, and Fai's arms aren't long enough to whack it silent. He groans, crawls up to stop that godforsaken noise. Except he can't.  
  
There's an obstruction around his chest.  
  
Fai frowns, squinting down at the band of heat around his body. The alarm clock still takes precedence, though, and there's some sort of muffled noise coming from behind.  
  
With great effort, he cants forward, jabbing the alarm clock off and slumping back into bed, to better examine the thing around his chest. And on his back.   
  
Maybe he's acquired a big platypus companion through the night.  
  
"Thanks," the platypus says.  
  
"I didn't think a platypus could talk," Fai mumbles. "But you certainly are warm."  
  
"I'm a what?"  
  
"Platypus. Mammal that lays eggs?" Fai squirms around to look, purring at the smooth skin rubbing against his. "Oh, you feel good. Mm."  
  
Coppery eyes greet him, together with a frown and lips that look very much in need of a kiss. "I don't lay eggs, you idiot."  
  
Fai freezes. He swallows, licks his lips. The boy feels delicious against him, and he doesn't want to move away. "So, um. Morning?"  
  
"Morning," Youou says. His voice is rough, and it makes Fai's heart flutter ever so slightly.  
  
"Can I pretend that you're a platypus?" Fai says, plaintive. "Then we can have sex and pretend that I slept with an animal."  
  
"The hell." Youou frowns. "Are you out of your mind, or still asleep?"  
  
"I'm in Egypt," Fai tells him. He grins. "In the Nile. Get it? Denial."  
  
The boy scoffs and rolls his eyes. "I can't believe this. You're thirty. That's not funny at all."  
  
"Come on, humor me," Fai says. "You're not the one with a... quarter-life crisis? Is that appropriate for my age? I think 'mid-life' would be better—"  
  
Youou kisses him, morning breath and all, and Fai groans, parts his lips for him. It's nowhere near a simple greeting kiss, not with the heavy slide of tongues and a palm down his belly, and Fai finds himself pushing into that large hand desperately, his body wide awake all of a sudden.  
  
"You can't just," he gasps, "surprise me like that."  
  
"You need to shut up," the boy says, and trails wet kisses down his neck. Fai groans. Youou crawls on top of him, one hand to his side, the other snug around him, stroking, and Fai arches up, not thinking anymore.   
  
Youou is big and strong above him. Fai is in heaven. There is the damp slide of something stiff against his belly; the palm around him pulls away. The boy shifts, and Youou's erection is gliding slow and heavy along his, sliding off frustratingly at times, until the boy finds a better position. Fai whimpers, digs his fingers into firm, beautiful hips. Youou's breathing stutters.  
  
"Use some spit," Fai says, trembling. "Helps it slide easier."  
  
The boy obeys, and the slick press of their cocks tugs a mewl from him. Youou leans in to share a kiss, still grinding firmly; Fai moans loud into his mouth. He loses track of how long they do this for, sliding and leaking like that, until the boy's arms tremble around him, and he's panting, his pace picking up.   
  
Maybe it shouldn't be arousing, the boy swearing above him like that, his cock dragging heavy against Fai's, but it is. The boy comes first, teeth clenched, his entire body shuddering, and Fai is torn between staring at his scrunched eyes and bared teeth, and the pearly white streaking across his own chest.  
  
He follows soon after, toppled off the edge by imagined bliss and that firm pressure, and it goes all over him, a wet mess.  
  
Youou peels himself off when he's not panting so hard anymore, casting about the room for something. "Tissue?"  
  
Fai shrugs. "Showering is easier." He rolls himself out of bed, careful to not smear anything on the sheets.  
  
The boy follows him into the bathroom. "I looked around for a toothbrush. You had a spare so I borrowed it. Sorry."  
  
He jerks his shoulders again, steps into the shower. "No worries."  
  
Youou is still there when he steps out in a thick haze of water vapor. Fai blinks at him. "Waiting for the shower? You could've stepped in with me."  
  
"Didn't want to distract you." He looks at Fai, knowing, and Fai blushes.   
  
"You're quiet during sex," he says, to steer the topic away.   
  
Youou shrugs. Red creeps up his neck. He steps into the shower so Fai can't see his face when he answers, "guess I got used to it. You know. Parents."  
  
Fai grimaces. "Yeah."  
  
The shower comes on, noisy pattering on skin. A moment later, "you want me to be louder?"   
  
He shrugs, remembers the boy can't see it. "Nah. Whatever is comfortable for you. Not that we're doing that again, of course."  
  
The boy snorts.  
  
Fai is smearing shaving cream on his face when Youou exits the shower, grabbing the used towel hanging beneath the towel rack.   
  
"I should probably go home," the boy says, voice muffled behind layers of fluffy ice-blue. "Stop leeching off you and stuff."  
  
"I can make you breakfast," Fai offers. He does it without thinking, isn't sure whether he's a fool for opening his mouth. This really needs to stop. "I'm making myself breakfast, anyway. It won't take long."  
  
"Okay."  
  
The boy looks very, very good with just a towel around his waist. Fai drags his eyes back to his chin, turns his face to inspect his shaving. "I have disposable razors. If you want to shave."  
  
Youou's forehead crinkles. His gaze drops to the one in Fai's hand, which is one of his better ones and clearly not flimsy plastic. "Why would you have disposable razors?"  
  
Fai winces. "Pubic hair," he says dryly. "And my ass. You know. But it itches like a bitch when it grows back."  
  
"Oh." The boy looks quickly down at his hips, and away, pink creeping up his cheeks.   
  
"I guess you didn't need to know that." He pulls his medicine cabinet open, extends a new razor to the boy. "But I promise this has never been anywhere near my butt."  
  
Youou snorts, smirking, and Fai grins.   
  
It's stupidly domestic, when they stand in front of the mirror together, Youou shaving and Fai wiping his face off. It's another thing that isn't supposed to happen, but it does.   
  
"Where do I put this?" the boy asks, waving the razor when he's done with it.   
  
"You're not tossing it?"   
  
"I might need it again." Youou looks at him through the mirror, and Fai's heart bashes itself against his ribs.   
  
"You probably won't," Fai says, "but it can go with your toothbrush, I guess."  
  
He can't help leaning in for a sniff when the boy rubs aftershave over his cheeks. It's smooth and musky, and Fai noses up his throat.  
  
"Mm. You smell good."  
  
"I smell like you," is what the boy says.  
  
"Yeah, but I've wanted— Never mind." He drags himself away with some effort, wipes his hands off, and heads out of the bathroom.   
  
Youou is dressed in his clothes from yesterday by the time Fai emerges from his bedroom, all groomed for work. Fai lifts his eyebrows.  
  
"Are you getting fresh clothes at all?" he asks.  
  
"I'll change real quick when I get my things for school," the boy answers, glancing at the clock.  
  
Breakfast is a cursory thing—eggs, jelly sandwiches, and some coffee. The boy gets a glass of OJ instead. Fai watches as Youou checks his phone for updates, taps his replies, and continues to eat.  
  
"What did you want?" he says suddenly. "You said you wanted something. Back in the bathroom."  
  
"Lots of things," Fai answers, smiling blithely, "but none that concern you."  
  
"Which means it concerns me." Youou kicks his feet beneath the table.  
  
"Ow! I'm an old man, you brat. Which means you don't go kicking my feet."  
  
"Can I kiss you, then?"   
  
Fai frowns at the boy. "No."  
  
"Fine."   
  
Youou pops over next door while Fai does the dishes. By the time he locks his door behind himself, the boy is in a fresh set of clothes, stepping out of his family's apartment.   
  
"That was quick," Fai says.   
  
"I don't spend forever putting clothes on, unlike you," Youou retorts.  
  
"That's because my clothes have to go together." He stretches his arms out, shows off the pants and shirt and shoes that have been carefully color-coordinated.  
  
The boy rolls his eyes, hits the call button for the elevator.   
  
It's quiet when they step in. Fai is caught off-guard when Youou leans into his personal space, catching his lips for a fraction of a second.  
  
His heart is fluttering again. He shouldn't still like the boy. He's too  _old_  for this.  
  
"See you later," Youou says much later, when they reach the traffic intersection. "I'm headed that way."  
  
"See you," Fai says. "Don't get into trouble, brat."  
  
If the boy looks cute trying to glare at him, Fai is most certainly not affected by it.  
  
  
  
  
At work, Fai announces, "I found a platypus in my bed this morning."  
  
There are some smiles, and a colleague or two drops by for a chat. When he gets the time to, he looks at Yuuko's message again.  
  
_May I stay on for another month?_  
  
  
  
  
News travels fast. Fai bumps into Mr Suwa in the elevator that evening, and the man smiles tiredly at him.   
  
"I heard you might be moving out," the boy's father says.  
  
Fai turns his wince into a smile. "Well, actually, I'll be here another month," he answers. "Youou said something?"  
  
"That's great! He was sad that you might be leaving."  
  
"Ah. Well." Fai shrugs, smiles, changes the subject. "How is your wife? I heard the surgery went well."  
  
"She's doing fine." Mr Suwa's eyes crinkle. "She'll be in the hospital for another day, but she'll be home after that."  
  
"I'm glad to hear that," Fai says. "If you guys don't feel up to cooking, I can always make something and bring it over. You know, to return the favor."  
  
"You really don't have to," Mr Suwa says. He rubs the weariness from his eyes, glances up when the elevator chimes. "But if you insist, I'm sure none of us will mind."  
  
"I'll insist, then."   
  
"Thank you."  
  
They step out into the lobby, and the man turns to him again.   
  
"Regarding Youou," Mr Suwa says. (Fai's limbs freeze.) "I hope he wasn't imposing on you last night."  
  
"He really wasn't," Fai says brightly. "We, uh, got along."  
  
"That's good. He doesn't have that many friends, so I'm glad you're so patient with him."  
  
Fai doesn't know what to say to that. Most of their relationship is what the boy's parents cannot know about. Especially after last night. "He's a very sweet boy," he blathers. "I think he'll do better making more friends, you know?"  
  
"We think so too." Mr Suwa smiles, fishes his keys from his pocket. "Well, I'll see you around, Fai. Gotta make dinner and all that. It's been a long day."  
  
Fai waves. "Talk again sometime!"  
  
He heaves a sigh when the door is safely shut behind him. The bags of groceries rustle in his hands, and he's just happy to have decent food within reach again.   
  
When he cautiously, slowly opens the blinds, Fai sees father and son in the next kitchen, talking between themselves. Youou is cutting up things, and his dad is poking around in the fridge.  
  
On an impulse, he pushes his windows open. Youou's eyes snap up at the movement; Fai cracks a smile.   
  
"What're you guys making for dinner tonight?" he asks. "I can fry up something and bring it over."  
  
"Some beef and veggies," the boy says. "Plus rice."  
  
"So you don't really need me, then," Fai says, relieved and disappointed at the same time. He tightens his fingers on the window, ready to swing it back shut. He should really stop making stupid offers if it's only going to get him into more trouble.  
  
"On the contrary," Mr Suwa says, coming to stand by his son, "what about a sinful side dish? Come have dinner with us. We'll be having plain food tomorrow since Youou's Ma will be back then, but something unhealthy today would definitely be appreciated."  
  
Fai laughs. He can't help it. He looks over the bags of stuff he's just bought, pawing through their contents. "Shredded potatoes and bacon? Sausage? Egg and bacon muffins?"   
  
"All of the above?" Mr Suwa grins, and his son frowns.   
  
"Dad," the boy grumbles. He looks back at Fai, though, his eyes full of  _want_. "You bought actual food?"  
  
Fai shrugs amusedly, his chest full of flutters. "I guess?"  
  
"So you're staying?"  
  
"A month, it looks like," Fai says.   
  
The boy's father has gone back to wandering through his kitchen to give them some semblance of privacy, and Fai knows as well as the boy does that he's still listening in.   
  
"Okay," Youou says. He smiles though, a little twitch of his lips, and he goes back to chopping his veggies. The tops of his ears are pink.  
  
Fai gulps. It's rare that the boy smiles because of  _him_ , and it's kind of incredible. His heart feels about ready to leap out and smush itself against Youou's chest. "Right. Um, shredded potatoes and bacon, then?"  
  
Youou and his father sound their approval at that. It means he's bringing food over, and it means he'll see the boy again.  
  
Fai gets to work with a thumping heart.  
  
  
  
  
This third dinner isn't so bad. The boy's father is fatigued, leaving Fai and Youou to fill in with most of the conversation. Youou's knee presses into Fai's thigh, again, and it's subtly full of promise—like a trundling bus honking down the street.  
  
Fai pretends not to notice. It works for all of minutes, until that knee drags, and Fai loses his focus in the midst of computer companies taking over one another.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says, "that must just be very boring to you."  
  
"No, no, it isn't," Mr Suwa says, waving. "Carry on. I'm just—" He yawns. "—about ready to fall asleep."  
  
"You should just go to bed, Dad." Youou scrapes the last bits of food together in each bowl, to be stored as leftovers for tomorrow. "I'll clean up."  
  
"I should help," Fai says immediately. "You keep doing the dishes. It's not really fair."  
  
"Thanks, kid," Mr Suwa says, smiling. He yawns again. "And thanks for bringing the potatoes and bacon, Fai. I loved it. I can't remember the last time we made something that unhealthy."  
  
Youou snorts. Fai smiles tentatively, unsure if this is really supposed to be a compliment. "I'm glad you liked it, at least."   
  
"It's a good thing, trust me." The boy nudges Fai in the side. Fai hurries to help put the leftovers away.   
  
When the boy's father is safely in his room, and Youou is up to his elbows in suds, Fai wanders over to stand beside him. "You're a really good kid."  
  
"I'm not a kid," the boy says. "You know that."  
  
Fai gulps. He looks into the dark of his own kitchen. "Well. I should be going back."   
  
(It's safe there, and he doesn't want to return. He wants to do things he shouldn't.)  
  
Youou finishes with the pans and bowls, rinses his arms off. "But you're still standing here."  
  
"State the obvious, why don't you. I really am going." Fai turns, determined to put some space between them before he caves again.   
  
Strong arms come to wrap around him, damp, and the boy presses himself snug against Fai's back. "I'm glad you're staying. Thank you."  
  
"I'm not doing this for you," Fai mutters. Soft lips drag down his neck; he shivers helplessly. "I just—"  
  
Large hands slide down his front, and his thoughts are distracted far, far away from excuses. Youou slips a hand into his pants. Fai squirms.  
  
"This is the... wrong place," he gasps, feels those fingers tugging on him.   
  
"My room?" the boy murmurs. He sucks wetly on Fai's shoulder, experimenting with his teeth, and Fai is  _hard_  in his palm.  
  
"No. We can't."   
  
"Your place?" Sharp teeth drag across his nape. It knocks his breath from his chest. Fai tips his head, lets the boy have every bit of skin he wants.  
  
"It's not—" He shivers again, whines when the boy pulls sideways to look at him. "Yes. My place."  
  
"I'll have to tell Dad I'm going."   
  
Fai winces at that. The boy leaves the kitchen; Fai hears him yelling something. When he returns, Fai's shut the kitchen windows, and the lights are off.  
  
They barely make it into Fai's apartment. The door clicks behind them, and Youou pins Fai against the wall, tugging impatiently on his clothes.   
  
At the same height, they are just about evenly matched when Youou presses his hips into Fai's, and Fai grinds back. Buttons pop, zippers rasp, and they don't make it past the living room. Youou fumbles Fai's clothes off into a puddle around his feet. Fai shudders against cool wall, black hair tufted between his fingers when Youou takes him into his mouth, and sucks.  
  
Teeth scrape lightly over him; Fai's hips jerk, and the boy gags. He doesn't have enough breath in him to apologize, but the boy doesn't seem to mind, instead pumps him with his fist.   
  
They end up on the floor, Fai trembling on top of Youou, rocking into his mouth at the same time the boy slides heavy on his tongue.   
  
When Youou comes, it's sudden and bitter and warm. Fai has to remember not to thrust hard when he tumbles over the edge. Youou laps it all up.   
  
  
  
  
Later, when they're both on the couch, in various states of undress, Fai offers the boy a bit of his wine. Youou raises his eyebrows.   
  
"Probably tastes better than water, at this point," he says dryly. "Sex doesn't exactly have a pleasant aftertaste."  
  
The boy rolls his eyes, but takes his glass anyway. "It's not that bad. You like sweets though."  
  
"I do." He almost talks about dying of diabetes this time, and bites his tongue. "I should eat more healthily."  
  
"Yeah. Which means you come over for dinner." Youou returns his glass. "We eat pretty simply."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Are you coming over tomorrow, as well?"  
  
Fai shrugs. "Maybe. I can make chicken noodle soup. It's not bad."  
  
"I want to try it."  
  
He smiles, leans into the boy's arm. "Okay, then. I'll make some."  
  
Youou presses a soft kiss to his mouth. Fai is too languid to protest, and too satisfied, besides.  
  
"I'll get you back for that," he threatens mildly.  
  
"Get me back how?" Another kiss.  
  
"Hey!" He smacks the boy lightly on the thigh, palm on bare skin.  
  
"Didn't think you were violent."  
  
"I'm not."   
  
"You're a damn liar."  
  
"I... merely belong to a different reality. One in which you're a platypus."  
  
Youou pokes at his head, and Fai whines. "I'm not a platypus, you idiot."  
  
"Everyone at my workplace thinks you're a platypus."  
  
"What. You can't be serious." The boy stares at him, brow furrowed.  
  
He nods earnestly. "They call you Plat for short."  
  
Youou scoffs. "Fine. If that's what you want."  
  
Fai smiles, snuggles into his side. "I have a platypus. Are you sleeping with me tonight?"  
  
"Tch. Am I going to be some other animal tomorrow?"   
  
"Do you want to be?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then you shall remain a platypus."  
  
"Idiot."  
  
"So are you staying over?" Fai drains his wine, leans over to sprawl himself across the boy's chest. Youou is warm and solid, and he had enjoyed the brief period they'd spent together in his bed.   
  
Youou keeps silent for a while. "My dad can take care of himself for a bit. I think he'll be out like a light tonight. But I'll have to go back early tomorrow to start breakfast and all that."  
  
"Okay. Sounds good to me."  
  
"What were you going to do tonight?"  
  
Fai shrugs. "I don't know. I don't have solid plans for every night, silly. Do you?"  
  
"I have homework. But it's Friday, so it can wait."   
  
"Maybe you should bring your homework over. Then that'll free up your time for other stuff over the weekend." Fai smiles when the boy sends him a dubious look. "Like taking care of your mom, things like that."  
  
"She'll be sleeping. She rests a lot after she goes to the hospital."  
  
Part of him is secretly glad that he gets to spend time with the boy.   
  
"But you should probably go, anyway," Fai says. "You're supposed to be getting over me, remember?"  
  
Youou rolls his eyes. "And you're staying another month. I think that says enough."  
  
"I just want to make sure that your mom is all right."   
  
"Bullshit."   
  
"Don't you just love that about me?" Fai flutters his lashes, grins big and bright.  
  
The boy looks away, blushes, and Fai realizes that this is really not so simple as a little crush.   
  
"No," Youou mutters.  
  
"Wait. You— You like me."  
  
"Isn't that obvious? You idiot."  
  
"You... more than like me."  
  
Youou jerks his shoulders. "I don't know."  
  
And there, in the middle of his gut, is a little sinking feeling. "Well, you shouldn't," Fai says flatly. "I'm just here to get you out of my system, and then I'm gone."  
  
The boy sighs. "I don't want you to leave. I've told you that."  
  
"And I've told you that you need to find someone better for you. Not some stupid airhead like me."  
  
"You're not an airhead." Youou turns to glare at him. "You're a kind person. You care about other people."   
  
"I don't care about you."  
  
Youou drops his gaze, stung.   
  
(It feels like something in his chest is shriveling up.)  
  
"You need to learn that I'm using you," Fai continues, before he chokes up with how much he hates himself. "There's nothing for you here."  
  
"You're lying." The boy looks at him.  
  
Fai meets his eyes steadily. "I'm not."  
  
(He really isn't.)  
  
Youou swallows, and it's loud in the silence of the room. "Okay. Okay."  
  
"Maybe you should just... go home. Don't stay the night." Slowly, Fai eases himself away, further down the couch. "Count it as a mistake we caught in time."  
  
"It's not a mistake, is it?" the boy says quietly.  
  
Fai laughs. "It is. Why are you asking me this? You should already know, but maybe you're too young to."  
  
Youou doesn't answer.  
  
"Just go home, Youou. I don't want to hurt you any more." He turns away, considers locking himself in his bedroom so the boy leaves.   
  
Before he does, Youou stands. He makes his way to the door where most of their clothes remain strewn, and pulls his back on. He turns back when he has a hand on the doorknob.  
  
Fai winces.  
  
"I don't— I don't think I'm giving up on you yet," he says. "Night."  
  
The door clicks shut, and Fai buries his face in his hands. This has been a long time coming.  
  
  
  
  
Fai goes back to hiding. It comes back to bite him when his colleagues mention the platypus, but all Fai says is that it's wandered off, never to return again.  
  
The blinds are mostly closed when he gets home at night, and he cooks for himself.  
  
He avoids the Suwas whenever he can. It's easy to on the weekend, when he doesn't have to go anywhere. Not so easy during the work week.  
  
His bed feels kind of empty, like he's sleeping with a ghost, but the boy hasn't been there long enough to leave a permanent imprint.  
  
He wonders if the boy hates him now.  
  
  
  
  
On Tuesday, he comes home to find another plastic bag on his door. There's a book in it.  
  
He hesitates when he reaches for it, halfway tempted to leave the book there and pretend he never saw it. The blurb is blurred through the bag—it makes him wonder if it's a book on lecturing, or a book telling him what sort of a mistake he's made.  
  
He's about to shut the door on it when the elevator chimes.  
  
Fai grabs the book and swings the door shut, his heart hammering in his chest.  
  
When he's regained his wits, he pulls the book out of its bag with shaking fingers.  
  
It's a book on self-esteem.  
  
Fai huffs a weak breath of laughter. Books are not what he'd think the boy would resort to, but... It's nice. It's second-hand, with creased page corners and penciled writing all over, but it has the soothing, loamy scent of an old book nonetheless.  
  
On the front page, just after the cover, there's a note in a stranger's hand:  
  
_To the next owner of this book, I hope it'll help you as much as it has helped me. Best wishes, S._  
  
It isn't something the Suwas have owned previously. Fai is sure of that. They would have given it to him personally otherwise, and the note would be addressed to him, instead of a generic new owner. It's something the boy bought, and passed on to him.  
  
It's not something he really needs.  
  
Fai sets the book on the coffee table and goes to make his dinner.  
  
  
  
  
Two days ago:  
  
Ma sleeps most of the weekend away, dosed on painkillers and antibiotics and a few other pills. Youou sits by her bedside when he can, when Dad is elsewhere in the apartment, or out.  
  
Whenever she wakes, he asks how she is, whether he can get anything for her, and what he can do to make her comfortable. She smiles fondly at him, holds his hand. She's recovering fine.  
  
Monday morning, when Dad is making breakfast in the kitchen, Youou slips into his parents' bedroom, sitting gingerly at the foot of the bed.  
  
"What's wrong?" Ma asks. "You haven't been looking too good since I got home, Youou."  
  
He swallows.  
  
(Maybe he'd cried a little that night.)  
  
"Fai?"  
  
He doesn't know how she reads him so easily, but she always does.   
  
Youou breathes out and sags a bit, fidgeting.   
  
"Maybe," he says.  
  
"Is it something you can tell me?"  
  
He doesn't even know where to start. Fai and all his loathing for himself. Fai saying he's using him. Fai opening up, and growing closer whenever they touch. Fai sharing his things. Making sure he's fed and clean. Fai inside him, and it didn't hurt, not like people online say it does. Fai's hiding. All of Fai's drawings.  
  
"I don't know," Youou says. "It's... complicated."  
  
"Want to talk about it?" Ma pats the mattress next to her hip, and Youou moves forward, careful not to jostle the bed too much.   
  
He takes a deep breath, listens out for Dad. Dad's still in the kitchen. (Youou doesn't want him to hear, in case he thinks badly of Fai.) "That guy... I think he's kind of messed up. But he's a good person," he adds hurriedly, before Ma gets the wrong impression. "He just... doesn't want— He hates himself a lot. So he doesn't want to... get involved. He says I'm too young."  
  
"You are young," Ma agrees. Youou just frowns at her.   
  
"I'm not young."  
  
"You are still a minor. Most people don't fully get a sense of who they are until they're in their early twenties." He makes a face; she smiles lightly, pats his thigh. "It doesn't necessarily apply to you, but he can see it that way. So that's one thing."  
  
"What do you think?" he asks. "Am I grown up enough?"  
  
Ma looks at him for a lengthy period, studying him. He squirms. There's no judgement in her eyes, though. Finally, Ma shakes her head. "You still have more growing to do yet, Youou."  
  
His heart sinks. "Damn it."  
  
"It's not a bad thing. You're still coming into yourself."   
  
"But the other people in school—some of them are in relationships already. They're in my grade or younger. It's just... not fair."  
  
"But they're also not interested in a grown man like Fai, are they? He has different priorities from most people your age."  
  
"I guess."  
  
"Relationships are not just about romance. In the long term, they're also about how two people get along together, and work together. Like how your Dad and I decide on our finances, and how best to raise you, and what sort of a life we'd like to live."  
  
Youou sighs. "We— Well, he's never got around to talking about that stuff with me."  
  
Ma looks solemnly at him. "You've been talking about things, though?"  
  
"Yeah, well." Heat rushes into his cheeks, and he looks away too late. Some of the time they've spent together don't involve talking at all. "Some. He told me about his family and stuff. We haven't really got around to talking about too many things yet."  
  
She quirks an eyebrow.   
  
"Tch. I don't know. He just— He has a cra— a bunch of issues. Like he's guilty about stuff he did in the past. It wasn't even his fault, really. He... really hates himself. I don't know how to change it."  
  
Her lips pull into a line. "I'm sorry to hear that. It's not something you can change easily, you know. It's not something you can change at all, even. Fai has to want to change how he sees himself."  
  
He sags. "I don't think he wants to. He's— He's an idiot."  
  
It makes him grin a bit, that thought. Fai is an idiot. He likes an idiot. Maybe he's an idiot himself, like what Fai keeps saying.  
  
Ma smiles at him. "You know that saying. You can lead a horse to water..."  
  
"But you can't make it drink. What do I do, then?" He glances away, sobering. "He said he's going to move out. When he gets— When he gets tired of me."  
  
Ma's eyebrows go up again. Youou shrugs uncomfortably, looks away.  
  
"Your Dad and I trust that you have sound judgement when it comes to certain things," she says dryly.   
  
"I do!" he splutters, red-faced. (Youou regrets bringing that up at all.) "Probably."  
  
"In any case," she continues, mouth twitching with amusement, "perhaps what Fai needs is the water he needs to drink. Something to help him see himself in a better light. I believe that needs to happen first, before you can really begin to think about a relationship with him."  
  
"I still don't want him to leave," he mutters.  
  
"That's something for him to decide. It's what adults do, Youou. Your influence will only extend so far." A pause later, "but you may be able to help him."  
  
He looks at her hopefully, perking up.  
  
"There are self-help books out there," Ma says, "some better than others. You might find one that suits his situation."  
  
Youou nods. "Okay. He might not even read it, though."  
  
She squeezes his hand lightly. "He'd still be better off with a book than without, don't you think?"  
  
"I guess."   
  
He gets up to leave, mind buzzing with possibilities and a spark of hope.  
  
"Youou," Ma says. He looks back. "Don't rush him, okay? You need to give him time to process all of that. Including what he feels about you."  
  
"How much time?" he asks, helpless.  
  
"As long as it takes." She gives him a soft smile. "Some things are worth waiting for, you know."  
  
He isn't sure about that, but time is what he has some of right now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it gets better (very very slowly) :) I'm still not over this fic yet omg :P


	8. Yuui

Fai doesn't touch the book for days.   
  
There are no more notes or messages from the boy, and Fai grows lonely, all over again. Websites and friends don't really help when you miss somebody. Neither does looking through the kitchen blinds, to find that the family next door has moved on perfectly fine without you.  
  
Restless, Fai curls up on his couch with a glass of wine, and reaches for the book. It's one of the few connections he has left with the boy.  
  
It starts off with things he already knows. There are stories of people who share experiences similar to his own, and sometimes stories that match exactly what he feels about himself. There are things he doesn't need a reminder of, like treating others well, and knowing that no one is obliged to help him. Some of it is about forgiveness.  
  
Fai chuckles. Forgiving himself. It's ironic, that phrase.  
  
He comes across a little exercise in the book, that tells him to stand in front of a mirror, preferably naked.   
  
He does.  
  
For two minutes, Fai tells himself aloud that he accepts all of his person, willingly, for all the faults he has.   
  
It doesn't really help—he still thinks he's a pile of crap, but he's done it. He's supposed to repeat it for the next two weeks. Maybe it's what Youou wants him to do.  
  
Fai doesn't believe it changes anything, but he continues to read.  
  
  
  
  
It alters the way he looks at himself, slowly. Fai reads about fulfilling his own wants and needs, about facing the challenges in his life.   
  
He still thinks he's nowhere near good enough for the boy, but he thinks, maybe, he can be good enough for himself.   
  
  
  
  
Another week passes. Fai does better with looking at himself in the mirror, now. When he tells himself he accepts all his faults, he starts to wonder what it'd be like if he really did. It would be a liberating feeling, maybe.   
  
When he looks at his reflection, he adds, "I love you," and he watches the wry curve of thin lips.  
  
He starts talking to Yuui.   
  
Fai rarely talks to his twin, almost never, because Yuui's voice is often one that blames him for the things he's done wrong.  
  
He reads the book, thinks about the things Mrs Suwa has told Youou, and allows himself to consider that Yuui might be kinder to him. Eventually.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says one night, "Yuui."  
  
It still hurts, and he has to breathe in deep to stop the well of sadness from overwhelming him.  
  
Death is something that will always hang between them, until Fai joins his brother in the afterlife. He curls up tight in bed, hugging a pillow, and soldiers on.  
  
"I'm sorry about everything. I hope you're in a good place now. I— I've been doing okay. I graduated from school. I have a job. They're thinking about promoting me next month. It's a nice place."  
  
It's everything Yuui doesn't have, because he's  _dead_.  
  
Fai chokes up, buries his face in his pillow, and sobs.  
  
He wishes he were dead instead of Yuui. Maybe Yuui would know what to do about the boy. He doesn't.   
  
For lack of warm arms around him, Fai pulls his blankets over his head, and finally quiets when he has no more tears. When he speaks again, his voice is a scraping sort of hoarse.   
  
"I— I've moved a few times. The place right now is nice. I can afford it. I have new neighbors. They're nice people."  
  
Yuui's voice, when he imagines it, is a little rusty.  _That's good._  
  
He heaves a dry sob. Fai doesn't know if Yuui will ever forgive him, but it is such a  _relief_  just to imagine his brother wanting something good for him, even if it isn't actually real.   
  
He swallows past the lump in his throat. "They have a boy," he whispers. "I have been so awful, Yuui."  
  
Fai can't imagine his twin saying anything to that, so he goes on.  
  
"He's beautiful and good and strong. I— I've had him in my bed. He's— Oh god, Yuui, I've slept with him. And I don't even regret it." Fai buries his face in the pillow, ashamed of himself. "He's sixteen years younger than me. Sixteen! And I really like him. I— He— He likes me back. I've told him to screw off. It's just not going to work out.  
  
"And now I'm lonely and I miss him. I'm so pathetic."   
  
_Then talk to him,_  Yuui says.  _Fix this._  
  
"I can't fix this!" Fai cries. "I'm supposed to move on and forget about him and never look back. That's how I'm supposed to fix it. And I don't want to."  
  
_You want to talk to him,_  Yuui says, because Yuui knows his deepest, darkest secrets.  _And you want him to top. He hasn't been._  
  
Fai blows a heavy, muffled sigh into his pillow. "Shut up, Yuui. No more sex. Damn it."  
  
But the blankets are thin and cold around him, and Fai's heart is raw and aching. Yuui is too far gone to share a hug.  
  
_You like his hugs,_  Yuui whispers.  _You can ask for one._  
  
"I haven't touched him in two weeks," Fai groans. "It's a good thing."  
  
_It's not,_  Yuui says.  _You need to fulfill your wants. Things that will make you feel better. You deserve it._  
  
"You sound like that book. I don't need a sixteen-year-old—"  
  
_Seventeen._  
  
"—fine, seventeen-year-old to make me feel better. I'm too old for this."  
  
_You're not too old to seek love where you can find it,_  Yuui says.  _The boy accepts you regardless._  
  
And he does. Fai doesn't know how stupid anyone has to be to like him, but the boy does. He really is an idiot.  
  
_The phone is on the bedside drawer,_  Yuui says.  
  
"I shouldn't talk to you at all," Fai answers. "You're now the voice of all my bad ideas."  
  
But Yuui had loved him, and Yuui had wanted the best for him, at one point. Fai bites his lip hard.   
  
All he has to do is send a text, and he'll get the hug he can already imagine. His very skin tingles at the thought.  
  
Fai reaches for his phone, cradles its cool weight in his hand.   
  
Yuui is silent while he does this.  
  
He hesitates for long heartbeats, finally taps the screen on, and searches out the boy's message thread. The last text was two weeks ago.  
  
_I need a hug,_  Fai types, and sends it off before he can begin to even think about it.  
  
The phone goes face-down, back on the drawer. He doesn't want to think about the boy's derision when he sees the message. Chasing him away, and then begging him to come back.   
  
(Maybe Fai is not pathetic, but he makes the worst decisions. Keeps making them. He's supposed to stop and be responsible.)  
  
The doorbell rings.  
  
Fai's heart  _jumps_ , and he freezes, at a loss. His pulse is fluttering. He's naked. He should just wait for the boy to go away, but. He wants that hug. His skin itches for it.  
  
He swallows, pulls his blankets around himself, and heads weakly for the door. He isn't even wearing his glasses. It's just a hug. It should be fine, right?  
  
The doorknob is cool against his fingers. Fai can barely bring himself to glance at the blurry outline of the boy when the door swings open.   
  
"You look like hell," Youou rumbles. Fai's stomach squeezes. He's missed hearing that voice so much, and he knows he's ugly and snot-nosed right now. It's a wonder the boy's even on his doorstep.  
  
"You don't have to dig it in," he mumbles, voice rough.  
  
The boy steps up, pulls him into a tight, warm hug. Fai almost sobs with relief.   
  
He's shaking, a little bit, and his heart aches, and it's all he can do to keep himself from completely sagging into that chest.  
  
They stand like that for a long while, in the fluorescent yellow of the lobby lights.   
  
"What happened?" Youou eventually asks.  
  
Fai hesitates. It's warm here, and he wants to... forget, for a bit. But the boy has come, even though it's midnight, and the least Fai can give him is an honest answer. "I talked to my brother. Yuui."  
  
Youou stills.  
  
"You already think I'm a nutcase—"  
  
"I don't."   
  
"—so... What."  
  
"I don't think you're a nutcase."  
  
"Then you have to be nuts." Fai sucks in a deep breath. "No. I shouldn't say that. I'm sorry."  
  
Youou's arms tighten around him.  
  
"Let's start again," Fai says. "I talked to Yuui. Sort of made peace with him, if you will. Sort of." When the boy doesn't say anything, he adds, "I think I'm a little better. Thanks for the book."  
  
"Did it help?" The boy pulls away slightly, the better to look at him, and Fai turns his face to the side, cheeks heating. Everything looks like a blur without his glasses.  
  
"I... think so. Sort of. I'm still... just kind of messed up."   
  
"It's okay. I'll wait." Youou hugs him close, warm chest pressed to his.   
  
His heart flutters. Fai drops his face into that broad shoulder. "I still think you shouldn't," he sighs. "I make mistakes."  
  
"Yeah, well, I make them too."  
  
Heat curls up into his neck and ears.   
  
"No," Fai protests, buries his face deeper. "Remember the night you, um, slept over?"  
  
"Tch. Yeah. You think?"  
  
Fai breathes heavily out. "There's just no easy way to explain this. I should've used a condom."  
  
The boy shifts against him, tensing up slightly. "And? We have to talk about this?"  
  
"Well, no," Fai mumbles into his shoulder. "But just so you know. I was supposed to. I— I mean, I knew I was fine. But I haven't been tested in a while, and— Sorry. This is a really awkward conversation and I can't look you in the eye after this."  
  
"So get to the point already." Youou turns again, and Fai pulls his blankets tighter around himself.  
  
"The point is that I'm fine. I went and got tested after. It was a bunch of tests." He doesn't mention that he had been nervous, on the off-chance that he did test positive for something or other. It had been nerve-splitting waiting for all the results to come in. "I just— should have taken precautions. Sorry. There's your safe sex talk for when you do that with other people in the future."  
  
"Tch. Okay. What if I'm still interested in you?"   
  
He stills. This isn't entirely expected. "I didn't think you would be."  
  
"I am. Idiot." There's a large hand working its way up his back, and Fai shivers. "We're both fine, so."  
  
"I really am an idiot, aren't I?"  
  
"Yeah. So can I kiss you?"   
  
Fai wavers. He exhales shakily, torn between protecting the boy from himself, and savoring those lips on his, and  _you must learn to respect your individual needs_. "I can't— I can't promise anything other than a kiss," he whispers.  
  
Youou's breath is warm on his neck. Large hands tip his head up, and he gives in to them, lets his gaze flicker up to coppery-dark eyes. He can see, this close. Those eyes hold no judgement against him. (Something in his chest eases.)  
  
When they kiss, it is slow and soft, the sort Fai needs to believe he deserves. Youou's fingers wind through his hair, slip up against his scalp, and he purrs.  
  
It goes on for a long time. When it changes, it's because Youou licks at him, tentative, and Fai allows him closer, tugs on his shirt to pull him further into the apartment. His breathing catches and stumbles and the boy's tongue is wet against his.  
  
Youou breaks the kiss. Fai blinks at him, catching his breath.  
  
"Do you want the door shut?" the boy asks.  
  
Fai darts his tongue over his lips. "Do you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He nods, then, and Youou closes the door, locks it. Fai's throat runs dry. "I don't know if we really know what we're doing," he rasps, stepping up to tug at Youou's shirt. His chest is solid and smooth beneath his fingers, and Fai scrapes his nails over the boy's nipples. There's a quick, sharp breath, and Youou steps closer, so there's barely an inch between them. "But you're probably wearing too much."  
  
They shed Youou's clothes in a tangle of hands, Fai's fingers tugging on his shirt, running up the toned muscle of his back, Youou leaning in to kiss him and lick down his neck. Fai  _arches_  up when the boy sucks on his throat, a slow, biting kiss that has his pulse fluttering against that mouth. It hurts. It's thrilling, and Fai is tugging hard on his shorts, shoving them down, only to realize that the boy is completely naked beneath. And he's  _hard._  
  
Youou's hand slips through his blankets, cups him fully, and Fai groans. "Bed," he gasps.  
  
They get to the bedroom, somehow, with one blanket half-hanging off from Fai. Youou has his hands on Fai's hips, his mouth on his neck, and it's a miracle that they don't stumble and break their noses.   
  
When they land on the bed, Fai is beneath, grinding up, and Youou is a large, broad shape above him, meeting his thrusts with his own. His fingers press firm into Fai's hips, pinning him into the bed. Fai spreads his legs, grabs at Youou's hips, and the slow, heavy press of that cock against him drags a whine from his throat.   
  
Youou leans in to kiss him again, grinding firm, and Fai writhes, his balls tight, pleasure feathering into his skin. "Please," he mewls, "fuck me."  
  
The boy pauses above him, dripping onto his belly, breathing hard. "I've... never done that."  
  
"I'll walk you through it. Please." Fai rolls his hips at him, pressing them together, and Youou groans. "Lube's in the top drawer."  
  
It doesn't take long for Youou's fingers to be slicked and rubbing at his entrance, and Fai pushes back against them, feels the first finger slip into him. He relaxes to accommodate it, tells the boy how to stretch, and the breath rips from his lungs when Youou accidentally presses against that one spot.  
  
"Fuck," he gasps.  
  
"It hurt?"  
  
"No. Do that too many times, and I'll come."  
  
It makes the boy smirk. Youou's finger slips around inside him, searching, and Fai  _jolts_  when he finds it again. "This?"  
  
He groans. "You think?"  
  
Youou presses on it, and Fai cries out, breathless, nails scrabbling over his sheets. "Don't know," he says, but there's a smug edge to his tone. "You tell me."  
  
"Yes. Yes! Don't make me come before you're inside," he whines, chest heaving.   
  
"You talk too much," the boy says, but he goes back to stretching. "I must be doing something wrong if you can still talk."  
  
"Jerk," Fai pants. "Try two fingers."  
  
He groans, tips his head back when Youou presses the next finger in. The boy tries spreading him, slowly, and Fai sees the raw hunger on his face, the sharp eyes that flick up his body, meeting his gaze. He can't look away.   
  
"How is it?" he asks, bites his lip.   
  
"Tight." It comes as a low growl, one that makes his pulse throb between his legs. Fai whimpers, squirms, and stops breathing when Youou leans close to suck him into his mouth.   
  
A low, formless sound tears out of his throat. His hips buck up; he can't think any longer, and Youou's fingers push in all the way to his knuckles. All he can do is moan, thrust up to try and stop that torment, and when Youou adds a third finger, he swears.  
  
The boy pauses. "Hurts?"  
  
"Fuck no," he says, his voice lower than it's been in a long while. Those fingers shift inside him, scissoring, massaging, and Fai's mouth fills with a loud, whining moan. "It— It'll hurt if you— you don't get inside me now."  
  
He doesn't care if it sounds breathless at this point. He whines again when the fingers pull out, his breathing quick and shallow.  
  
"Do you want a— a condom?" Youou asks.  
  
"Don't care," he says, staring at the boy's cock and wishing it were inside already. "You decide."  
  
Youou reaches his other hand into the drawer, grabs a foil packet, and Fai watches hungrily while he rolls the condom down over himself.  
  
"More lube." He points weakly at the bottle, anticipation riding high in his veins. When Youou finally presses up against him, firm and blunt, he chokes on a whimper. Then he pushes in, and all he can feel is the thick, solid presence of cock in his ass. Youou swears. The boy is big in him. It aches a little, but it's a good pressure that has Fai panting harder the deeper Youou gets, until he's all the way inside, and Fai is really in heaven right now.  
  
Youou groans into his shoulder, trembling. "Fuck."  
  
"Yes," he hisses. "Now, move."  
  
Youou thrusts slow into him at first, and he's quivering, already close. His mouth latches onto the lean meat of Fai's shoulder, and he sucks a bruising kiss into his skin, one that has Fai squirming, trying to bring his aching cock some relief.   
  
"At least touch me," he gasps.  
  
The boy bites lightly into the skin of his throat, and Fai's spine flexes up. He can't tell how many bruises he has by this point, but he doesn't care, instead digging his fingers into the boy's waist. Youou raises himself away slightly, slips a hand between them to stroke him, and Fai groans. The boy's touch feels so much better than his own. Especially when he circles the tip and—  _fuck_.  
  
Fai's breath stutters when Youou begins to move again, slow and deep. "More," he groans, and the boy tries a different angle, one that has Fai clutching at his back, teeth biting hard into his lip. "Oh god, yes."  
  
Youou isn't doing much better above him. His breathing runs ragged, and he's going slow on purpose—Fai thinks he really can't hold on for very much longer, either. He remembers the sweet spot in Fai, though, and he barely misses it when he slides in.  
  
The next thrust hits it straight on, and Fai jerks up, cries out, stars dancing across his vision.   
  
From there, it's a series of shallow strokes, misses that give him space to breathe, and hits that send him gasping, smearing wet onto both of them.   
  
"Can't hold much longer," Youou grits shakily, his hips slick with sweat. He's bigger than before, now, on the very edge, and the thought of it makes Fai shiver, cock twitching.  
  
"Come inside me," he gasps, dragging nails across the boy's back, pulling him closer, and Youou groans, shoves  _hard_  into him, his entire frame shaking.  
  
Fai comes soon after. It's nowhere elegant; a cry tears hoarse from his throat, his spine bows up, his fingers dig hard into flesh.  
  
Youou holds him through it all. Later, when he's coherent and shaky and blinking himself back to his senses, the boy pulls away, his chest smeared with wet.  
  
Fai lies bonelessly in bed, stretching himself out and unable to move. He says as much.  
  
"Guess you liked it," the boy says next to him, satisfied.   
  
"If I can move right now, I'd smack you. Brat," he murmurs drowsily. The sheets are damp beneath him. He's covered with sweat and come, and he needs a shower badly.   
  
Instead, he remains in bed, still.  
  
It's silent while they catch their breaths. Fai drifts in and out of sleep, blinking awake when a large, warm hand covers his.   
  
"Can I stay the night?" Youou asks.  
  
Fai breathes in, holds his breath, and releases it. "I... suppose you may. I still think your parents are going to hate me for everything."  
  
"They won't." The boy rolls over, nuzzles into his ear, and Fai feels his heart flop somewhere in the depths of his chest. "I missed you."  
  
He sighs again.  
  
"Did you miss me?"  
  
Fai blinks up at the ceiling, wondering how he should answer. (Yuui says,  _yes._  Fai says no.) "Maybe."  
  
The answer is good enough for the boy, apparently, because he doesn't stop nosing at Fai's ear. "Go out with me. To the mall or something. Or to one of my games. Dad can't always make it to them."  
  
Fai has never seen the boy play. He should, but. He shouldn't. "Maybe," he says again. "We need to shower."  
  
Youou rolls out of bed immediately. Fai follows his movement from the corner of his eye, and sighs.  
  
"I'm too old for this," he says. The boy snorts, comes over to his side of the bed, and hauls him up. Fai jams his glasses on.  
  
It's only when they make it to the bathroom that Fai notices the red crusted beneath his nails. It looks like dried blood, and he stares quizzically at his hands until the boy turns around to pee.   
  
"Your back," Fai yelps. There are myriad scratches all across his skin, and a couple long lines of bright red, smeared with blood.  
  
Youou frowns. "What about it?"  
  
Fai shows him his hands. The boy raises an eyebrow, twists to look at his back, and stops before he loses his aim.   
  
"Oh."  
  
"I'm sorry," Fai says. "Did it hurt?"  
  
"Tch. Quit apologizing. It wasn't all that painful."   
  
"If your parents see it, they're definitely going to kill me." Fai winces, runs his hands under the tap. The cold water doesn't help. "It looks like I murdered someone."  
  
Youou rolls his eyes. "Get in the shower, then."   
  
He does. The boy asks to join him, and Fai is too weak to refuse. Especially when Youou's chest is solid heat against his back, and it feels safe, and  _good_. The boy presses a kiss to his shoulder.  
  
"I guess you liked marking me," Fai says at length, when he's mostly resigned to the Suwas seeing their son scratched up like that. It isn't as if the boy didn't do the same to him. "I can't explain six mouth-sized bruises on my neck. Six of them!"  
  
"Seven," the boy says. "You missed one at the back."  
  
"Oh god. They're going to  _murder_  me when they see." Fai wilts. "I need a turtleneck. I threw the last one away. It's too hot to wear at home."  
  
"You going to raise the blinds?" Youou asks.  
  
"On second thought, maybe not."  
  
"They might still see you anyway. You can't hide forever."   
  
Fai heaves a sigh. "I know that. But I can try."  
  
"Actually, I kind of told my Ma. About us."  
  
He turns to stare at the boy through the shower spray, mortified. "You what?"  
  
The boy shrugs, discomfort plain on his features. "I just said you might get tired of me."  
  
Fai covers his face and whines, leaning against the wall. "Do they know we've had sex?"  
  
There's a pause. "Probably. I didn't say it outright though."  
  
He groans. "They're going to take me to court or something."   
  
"Will you stop that," the boy says. It comes with a loud slap to the side of his ass, and Fai yelps, jerking away. "They aren't that sort of people. Think about it. Every time you say something like that, you're believing the worst in them. Which is wrong."  
  
"Well, I—" Fai has nothing to say to that. "Okay. I get your point. Sorry. It's just... fundamentally wrong that I'm sleeping with their son."  
  
"I've told you, that's my decision. Not theirs."   
  
"You aren't the one having to look them in the eye. You are still a minor, for fuck's sake, and I should know better."  
  
Challengingly, "was tonight bad, then?"  
  
He chuckles, dry and somewhat amused. "Oh, hell no. Not at all. Which is why this is so difficult."  
  
Behind him, Youou sighs and wraps his arms around Fai's waist, dragging him back against himself. "We can be friends, right?"  
  
He props his chin on the slope of Fai's shoulder, runs his fingers through wet blond hair. Fai echos his sigh. "I... guess."  
  
"Do you still think you aren't good enough for me?"  
  
He bites his lip. "Yeah."  
  
"Did the book help at all?"  
  
"A bit," Fai says, honestly. "I can really look at myself in the mirror now. I can even say good things to myself. Sometimes."  
  
"That's good."  
  
He snorts. "You're unnaturally patient, for a kid."  
  
"My Ma said I can't hurry you on this, so."  
  
"Oh my god, how much did you tell your mom?" Fai winces, horrified and certain that Mrs Suwa is ready to flay him alive, or something.   
  
"Tch. Not that much, you idiot." Youou bites lightly into the meat of his shoulder, and Fai protests. "You didn't give me much choice at all."   
  
"The choices I gave you were to stop seeing me, you brat," Fai mutters, attempting to elbow the boy. There's a strong, solid arm in the way, though, wrapped snug around Fai's waist. "This wasn't an option."  
  
"Now it is."  
  
"You're... unbelievable." Fai bumps his head gently against the boy's. "What exactly does she know?"  
  
"Just that you're really messed up—"  
  
With no shortage of sarcasm, "great, thanks."  
  
"—and that I want to keep you around. She said to look for a book that'll help you."  
  
Fai doesn't know what to think of this at all. That the boy wants to help is very sweet. That his mom has some clue how messed-up he is, not so much. "So she— Does she hate me?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Think poorly of me?"  
  
"No. But I think she feels a bit sorry for you."  
  
"Well." It's not the best he can hope for, but Fai doesn't have much of a choice right now. "I suppose I should say my thanks."  
  
"You could come to dinner," the boy says. "My Dad and Ma like having you over."  
  
"Not when they see your back, they won't."  
  
"I'll keep my shirt down," Youou mutters. "That isn't any of their business."  
  
"I have bruises all over my neck. It almost looks like some sort of domestic violence."  
  
The boy barks a laugh. "So you coming to dinner, or not?"  
  
"Maybe. At least, after the hickeys fade. I don't think a scarf is going to help much."   
  
"It could."  
  
Fai shrugs, cuts the shower. "C'mon, we've been standing in here long enough. My fingertips are raisins."  
  
It doesn't take long for either of them to dry, and return to the bedroom. Halfway through changing the sheets, Fai glances up at the boy. "Your parents know you're here? Sleeping over?"  
  
Youou pulls a face. "I'll go text Dad. He'll see it in the morning."  
  
"Do you actually tell your parents where you sleep? When you're here?"  
  
" _No,_ " the boy says. "None of their business."  
  
"I probably should get you a separate mattress or something. Just so there's actually somewhere I can point to other than my bed."  
  
"Tch. If they ask, I'd just be honest about it. I sleep in your bed." The boy rolls his eyes, steps out of the bedroom, and Fai sighs to himself.   
  
"Here I am, trying so hard to hide, and there you are, blowing my cover to bits," he mutters.   
  
He isn't going to lie, though, that it feels very, very good when the boy curls up behind him, one arm around his waist. Youou does this as though it were natural for him to. And Fai sleeps better for its safety. It's especially not something he can forget, when they slip between fresh sheets and the boy pulls him snug against himself.  
  
"Night," Youou says, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Fai shivers.  
  
"Goodnight," he whispers.   
  
Fai wishes this could go on forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess by now you know where the fic is headed (sort of). ... LOL I'm sorry. People are never really happy most of the time in my fics. LOL Should that be a warning? In front of every fic? Like, "AG writes about broken/messed-up people. Any mention of fluff is an anomaly and should be treated with caution." ?????


	9. Spots

Fai's luck runs all the way to the ground the next morning, when Youou's phone rings. The boy grumbles and reaches out for his phone, holding it to his ear. He has one leg over Fai's, and he's pressing hard into Fai's back. "Dad?"  
  
Through his rapidly-dissipating sleep, Fai hears Mr Suwa's voice clear and piercing through the phone speaker. "Hey, kid. Just thought I'd check in on you."  
  
Youou winces, yanks it away from his ear. "Ow," he hisses, thumbs a button to lower the volume. His voice is still sleep-rough when he talks again. "'M fine. It's early."  
  
Fai squints at his alarm clock. It's about ten minutes before his alarm goes—not exactly early, though.  
  
Mr Suwa's voice is much quieter the next time Fai hears him. "Just a wake-up call. You have school today. Don't forget."   
  
"I didn't forget."   
  
"Fai there with you?"  
  
There's a pause, and Fai feels the boy's eyes boring into the back of his skull. "Depends on what you need him for."  
  
His father chuckles. "Nothing. Your Ma and I just talked about it, but I thought you could do with a reminder about safe sex. Remember, kid—no glove, no love!"  
  
He breaks into a hearty laugh, and all Fai wants to do is shrink and die right there in bed.  
  
"Dad," the boy splutters. Fai isn't the only one red-faced, most definitely not.  
  
"Or, condomize to womanize! Well, you know, the masculine equivalent." More laughter.  
  
Fai has his hands plastered over his face, and he's curled up into a little ball of utmost shame.  
  
Youou is speechless behind him. He makes little squawking sounds, and finally whines, " _Dad!_  You don't— I know that!"  
  
His father is still snickering over the phone when he asks, "so you coming home for breakfast?"  
  
The boy pauses again, and Fai gets the impression that he's needed for an answer. He shrugs.  
  
"Uh. No, I'll just grab my things later."   
  
"All right. See you later. Don't make Fai late for work! Also, tell him I said hi!"  
  
He only relaxes when Youou sets his phone back on the bedside drawer.   
  
"Oh my god," Fai moans. "I can't look at anyone ever again."  
  
"Like you're the only one," Youou mutters. He pulls away from Fai, moves so the mattress indents, and when Fai turns to peek at him, he's face-down in his pillow. "I have no dignity left."  
  
"You and me, both," Fai says, and flops into his own pillow. "I think I'm dead. In fact, I know I'm dead."  
  
Youou turns to look at him. Fai knows this because his voice isn't muffled anymore. "You're not dead. But I know what you mean."  
  
"How do you even live with that?" he groans, when he finally faces the boy again. "Sex jokes? He knows we have sex? I cannot look him in the eye anymore, do you understand that?"  
  
"I have to go home and face them later, idiot. It's not just you."  
  
"But you're young and stupid. You can afford to make mistakes."  
  
"I'm not stupid," the boy protests. "And I'm not young."  
  
He does reach out for Fai, though, slipping his arm around his waist and pulling him close.   
  
Fai shuts up. He tucks his head beneath Youou's chin, pressing his nose to his skin. "Mm. You smell good, at least."  
  
"What do I smell like?"  
  
Fai shrugs, sniffs again. "Good. Musky. Maybe it's your hormones."  
  
"Weird," Youou says. "My Ma says my room stinks sometimes."   
  
"I had that too." Fai sobers. "We were shuffled around especially much in our teenage years—lots of complaints about smelly laundry. But we didn't really smell it ourselves."  
  
"But you don't think I smell bad?"  
  
"I'll have to smell harder," he says, grateful for the distraction. The boy keeps still while Fai noses under his arms, down his front and between his legs. "Nothing bad. This is slightly sweaty, maybe."  
  
But sweat is not a bad smell, and Youou's throat bobs when Fai nuzzles between his thigh and his balls. He spreads his legs.  
  
It's suddenly not quite about smelling anymore, when Fai drags his tongue up Youou's balls, and the boy sucks in a sharp breath.   
  
He grows hard quickly. Fai is only too keen on tasting him.  
  
When Youou is reduced to a languid heap of limbs and sweat, Fai crawls back up, kisses him slow and thoroughly. Youou reaches down to return the favor; Fai pulls away.  
  
"Some other time," he says. The boy frowns. Fai taps his nose. "Gotta keep you coming back for more, no?"  
  
Red eyes narrow. "Thought you didn't want to do this."  
  
He shrugs, looks away. "Your parents know, now. It's not like we can really hide it or anything."  
  
"You gonna go on a date with me, then?"  
  
Fai purses his lips. "Maybe. It's kind of different."  
  
"It's going to sound a lot worse to my parents if you're just sleeping with me, instead of dating me."  
  
The boy is right. Fai turns away when heat creeps up his cheeks. He hasn't foreseen this, not when the boy's parents are fine with the idea of him and Youou being together. "I... I need to think about it," he says eventually. "It's... kind of a big step."  
  
"Okay." Youou reaches out for him, slips fingers behind his neck and draws him close, and the kiss they share is slow and toe-curling. Fai doesn't want to pull away when it ends.  
  
  
  
  
They shower together. Fai makes breakfast for them both, and keeps the blinds shut. He doesn't need to exchange pleasantries with Mr and Mrs Suwa with hickeys on his neck. Youou teases him about the spots. Fai announces that he's the most fashionable ladybug around, and that he should wear his most atrocious polka-dotted shirt to work.  
  
Youou dares him to. Fai doesn't.  
  
Except he does, on a whim. The shirt is white with uniform black circles in rows, and Fai ties his hair up with a spotted red bandanna. Even his panties have spots.   
  
(Youou blushes when he sees Fai in them.)  
  
"So, I'll see you sometime," Fai says, waving the boy off with a sheer dalmatian-print scarf that he intends to wrap around his throat right before he heads out.  
  
"Yeah, okay. I'll text you," Youou says. He turns towards his apartment, waves his phone at Fai.  
  
Except, of course, Fai's luck continues to trawl through rock-bottom dirt.  
  
"I doubt he'll be late," another voice says a moment later. "Oh! Youou. We were just talking about you."  
  
Fai freezes in his doorway. He has the worst luck ever, and he absolutely cannot slam his door right now, when his neighbors have just witnessed their son stepping out of his apartment. In his sleeping clothes.  
  
Fai has manners. He needs to remember that.  
  
Two feet away, Youou is still, and he has tinges of red crawling up his neck. "Hey, Dad, Ma," he says.  
  
Before Fai can think about hiding anything, the boy's parents move into view, and Mr Suwa breaks into a grin. "Oh, hey, Fai! Haven't seen you in a while. You're sure... spotty today."  
  
Fai's limbs have turned into stone, and he can only watch with a sick sense of dread as two pairs of eyes flit from his bandanna to his shirt, to the scarf in his hand, and back up to his throat. Youou's mother says her  _good morning_  with a smile. Fai doesn't know how this is a good morning at all.  
  
"Um, yes. Nice morning out, isn't it?" he chirps, his grin barely hanging on.   
  
"That's just rude, Dad," Youou mutters.   
  
"Now, Fai is a good man," Mr Suwa says, and holds Fai's gaze for a moment longer, before looking at his son. (Fai just wants to sink through the floor and die already. He doesn't know why he hasn't evaporated yet.) "I hope you weren't taking advantage of his kindness, waking him up in the middle of the night like that."  
  
Youou shuts his mouth and frowns, his face a bright red.  
  
Fai is too busy pulling his scarf tight around his neck to contribute to the conversation. Maybe he'll cut his air circulation and put himself out of this misery. "I should, um, get back to things," he says. "Work and all that."  
  
"Oh, that's right." Mr Suwa exchanges a look with his wife. "We're headed out. Just bringing the Mrs for a routine check."   
  
"I hope you're feeling better, Mrs Suwa," Fai gasps. He can't believe he's forgotten to mention that, but. Spots on neck.   
  
"I am, thank you." Youou's mother smiles, and Fai wonders what she must think of him now, messed-up and doing things with her son. "You do look good today, Fai."  
  
Fai doesn't know what to say. They've seen the  _bruises_. Which are fresh. And their son has just spent the night at his place. He tells himself he shouldn't run. He needs to present himself decently, or Youou's parents will retain a bad impression of him. It's not like they're even dating yet. But he's just slept with their  _son_ , and they  _know_.  
  
Nothing in life quite prepares you for a situation like this.  
  
"Thank you!" he says, feeling incredibly old and dirty. "Don't worry about Youou. He wasn't a bother."  
  
He doesn't know what else to add. What do you say to the parents of a boy you're interested in, are sleeping with, and are far too old to date?  
  
(Fai really, really sucks at life.)  
  
"I hope you, ah, remembered to wrap things up." Mr Suwa raises his eyebrows, and Fai is eternally glad that the look isn't directed at himself. The boy is red all the way to the tips of his ears, and Fai kind of feels sorry for him, but mostly he feels sorry for himself.   
  
" _Dad!_ "  
  
"I should really be going, though," Fai says, his spirits lifting at the thought of escape. "You guys have a great day!"  
  
There's a chorus of answers, and Fai barely stops the door from banging shut. He presses his ear to the crack in the doorjamb, heart furiously kicking.  
  
Without him around, the boy squawks more, and then their words grow serious. Youou asks after his mom. His parents check that he's fine, and his mom asks about Fai. Fai stops breathing when he hears that, only relaxes when Youou yields a curt  _he's better_.  
  
It's quiet after that. Fai sinks against his door, bonelessly, and only remembers himself when his phone begins to buzz in his pocket.  
  
_Oh fk im sorry_  
  
Fai is still not okay enough to answer, so he peels himself off from the door, and goes to check that the stove is off and everything is locked.   
  
_You ok?_  Youou asks a while later. He sends another message.  _Do you need me to pick you up?_  
  
He snorts at that, and finally answers.  _Am okay. I think. I'm almost completely dead._  
  
_If you don't get your ass out, youre gonna be late._  
  
Fai looks at the time on his phone and yelps. He grabs the last of his things, and steps out of the door. Youou is waiting for him, dressed and ready to go.  
  
"Oh, god," Fai mumbles. "I can't show my face around here anymore."  
  
The boy rolls his eyes, hits the elevator call button. "You'll live."  
  
"You didn't see how I almost died," he protests.  
  
"Believe me, I could feel it." Youou steps closer to him, and his arm is a grounding warmth against Fai's. Fai all but sags into that heat. "I'm glad you're still alive though."  
  
"Figures," he says. "I don't want to be tortured like that again."  
  
"I think you'll be better off if you came out and said it," Youou says. "Then at least they know you know, and you know they know. Less awkward."  
  
"I think I'd die before that happens." He heaves a deep sigh. "I haven't even had time to think about the dating thing yet."  
  
"I'll wait."  
  
"But I'd have nothing to say to your parents in the meantime." Fai rubs his hand across his face. "It's no fun growing old. You should appreciate being young. You aren't expected to behave like an adult."   
  
The boy frowns. "Yeah, sure I am. I'd rather be treated like an adult."  
  
"You mean, with your dad?" Fai asks dryly.  
  
Youou snorts. "I've had enough of the sex jokes already. It's embarrassing. And he even did that in front of you. I can't believe him."  
  
"If I get enough heart attacks, maybe I'll die and not have to deal with all this."  
  
The boy sends him a sharp look. "Don't say that."  
  
Fai shuts up. "Okay."   
  
The elevator doors open with a chime. They step in, and as it brings them down with a slow swoop, Youou reaches up to tug at the dalmatian-print scarf. "You pulled it on too tight," he says.  
  
"Oh. I— didn't notice. Was in a crappy situation. You know."   
  
Large fingers worry at the scarf, first on one side of his throat, then the other, and the boy frowns as they slow to a stop at ground level. "I can't make it right."  
  
Fai ends up retying his scarf, properly this time, with all the ruffles and folds it's supposed to have. "There. This better?"  
  
"Yeah." Youou drags his eyes away. "You look good."  
  
"I look like I have spots all over." Fai laughs. It takes some of the pressure off his chest, and he breathes better for it. "See, they climbed onto my neck, but the scarf hides them."  
  
Youou snorts. "You spout a lot of crap, but I like you anyway."  
  
When he smiles, it's self-deprecating and thin. "Yeah, well. I'm still not sure about your parents."  
  
The boy sighs. He slips his hand into Fai's, though, and tugs him along. "I think it'll get better. Once it's clear between everyone that we're having sex and they have nothing else to say about it."  
  
"I don't want to deal with this," Fai groans. "It sounds awful. You aren't the one in my position, brat."  
  
"Just get it over with," Youou says.  
  
He rolls his eyes. "Easy for you to say. I don't even know what I want out of this."  
  
"So you're going back to hiding?"  
  
"Probably."  
  
The boy huffs. "You're an idiot."  
  
Fai shrugs.   
  
"Are you still thinking about moving out?"   
  
He shrugs again. "I don't know. I asked to extend my lease by a month, so Yuuko hasn't had to change the paperwork yet. She says she'll start charging me for the admin work."  
  
"Told you she's a bitch."  
  
Fai laughs, and nudges the boy. "You're a foul-mouthed brat."  
  
"Not a brat."  
  
"Sure."  
  
"But while you're here, I can come over, right?"   
  
They slow down as they reach their intersection, and Youou turns to look at him.   
  
"Yeah. I guess you can. I won't stop you. I don't think I want to." Fai grins at him, and spots his bus rounding the corner of the previous intersection. "Well, crap. I gotta run."  
  
The boy tugs on his hand to pull him close, drops a quick kiss on his mouth.   
  
"See you," he says.  
  
Maybe there are people at the intersection, and maybe they're watching, but Fai doesn't want to think about that right now. He smiles at the boy, claps a hand to his scarf, and turns to run. "See you, kid!"  
  
Youou scowls, and Fai's laughter follows him down the sidewalk.  
  
  
  
  
At work, Fai tells his colleagues that the platypus is back, transformed into a magical prince.  
  
He even starts sketching again—a skinny blond and a platypus with a crown, both grinning in a polaroid snapshot.  
  
  
  
  
_I am not a platypus,_  comes the text message later that evening.   
  
Fai chuckles to himself, stirring up his pot of reheating stew. "Well, no, you don't have a bill. But you're big and cozy."  
  
His phone buzzes again.  _So when do you want to come over for dinner? Ma is asking again._  
  
Fai sighs, taps a reply.  _I don't know! :(_  
  
_Can I come over tonight?_  
  
_...you may as well. After you finish your homework and chores and kiss your Ma goodnight. On second thought, maybe not the kissing her bit. You have been doing dirty things with that mouth._  
  
_Oh god WHY do you have to say it like that._  
  
He snickers to himself.  _Because I can? Seriously though, have you thought of it that way? It's kind of gross._  
  
_Now I feel weird about kissing her. Damn you._  
  
_Oh, you innocent, impressionable child._  
  
_Fuck you._  
  
Fai sends a heart sticker before he thinks too deeply into it, and sets his phone down. The boy is adorable. He wants to hug Youou and kiss him to bits and cuddle him, but. It's still not a relationship. He isn't even certain if he's capable of something like that.  
  
Sobering, he wanders out of the kitchen, picks up the book on self esteem again.  
  
By now, he's made it once through the book, and done some of the exercises prescribed. They've helped. He's still saying nice things to himself in the mirror, and thinking about Yuui doesn't hurt quite as much anymore.   
  
(Youou had not said anything when Fai talked to himself in the mirror this morning. Fai kind of really likes the boy.)  
  
He reads until the stew is ready, brings the book into the kitchen with him so he can read it while he eats. It'll take many more rounds of reading before he remembers it all, but this is a start.  
  
After, when he's done some cleaning (because the boy is definitely going to be visiting a lot more often), Fai puts on some music and spends the rest of his time drawing. This drawing is for himself. It starts off as a pencil sketch, that gathers some inked lines as he goes on, and is a beautiful, half-complete piece by the time the doorbell rings.  
  
Fai glances at the time and jumps to his feet. It's way past eleven; there have been no messages from the boy.  
  
Rather, his phone has been left in the kitchen, and he's only reading through the accumulated messages as he goes to answer the door, mouth pulled into a sheepish grin.   
  
Youou is wearing a frown when Fai meets his eyes.   
  
"At least you haven't knocked your head or something," the boy grumbles.  
  
"I'm sorry I worried you," Fai says.   
  
Youou frowns deeper and looks away, and it suddenly feels as though his heart is growing by ten sizes. "I wasn't worried. Tch."   
  
He pulls the boy into his apartment, shuts and locks the door, and slips his arms around Youou's waist. There's a lot of him to hug, and a lot of him to be fond of. "You were," Fai whispers. "You don't lie very well."  
  
Warm arms wrap around him. It feels good, safe, all over again. (Fai doesn't want this to end.) Youou nuzzles at his ear. "Whatever."  
  
"I forgot about my phone completely. It was in the kitchen."  
  
"Idiot," the boy says. "What were you doing, if you weren't looking at your phone?"  
  
"Jerking off." At Youou's suspicious stare, Fai laughs. "No. I was drawing."  
  
"Can I see?"   
  
"Mm. Later. I want to hug you first." Fai skims over solid muscle with his fingers, reaches down to grab that toned butt, and his hand inches past the hem of Youou's shirt. "There's so much of you to touch."   
  
Youou's hands are smoothing along his back, too, reaching up to tangle with his ponytail.   
  
"I like your hair," he says.  
  
"I guess there's some part of me that's decent." Fai noses into Youou's throat, purrs when those fingers rub firm across his neck.   
  
"I like all of you. Maybe except the part where you hate yourself."  
  
"I'm doing better with that."  
  
"I know." The boy pulls away slightly and catches his lips when he looks up, drawing him into a kiss.  
  
When Fai finally steps away from him, warm and satisfied, he tugs the boy to his study. Music is still playing, and he hooks his foot around the leg of a stool, dragging it to his desk. "Sorry. I don't have much in the way of entertaining guests here."  
  
"It's fine." Youou isn't looking at the stool, though. He's staring at the drawing that's slanted across the desk, black ink dry. "I didn't... think you were identical."  
  
"You thought we were fraternal?" Fai smiles faintly, glances at his project. "That's... him when he— you know."  
  
He has to breathe in deeply, blink the blurriness in his vision away so he's able to see the drawing once again. In that, Fai can admit that it's a good piece of work—the drawing is done in portrait, a side view of Yuui kissing his forehead. It's everything he hopes for, that he won't ever get the answer to.   
  
"I grew up with fraternal twins as neighbors," Youou says. "So I don't immediately think of mirror images when I hear about twins."   
  
"Yuui was better than me, really," Fai says. "Full of good and fun and really cheerful."  
  
"I think you're good. No need to compare." Youou catches his hand and brings it up, pressing a kiss to his palm. Fai shivers.  
  
"I think you'd like him more, if you got the chance to meet him," he says.  
  
"Maybe I'd like you both equally." Youou strokes a thumb across the back of his hand. Fai turns to him. He wants all of the boy's attention for a while.  
  
"Maybe," he answers. "How long are you staying tonight?"  
  
"Not that long. I don't think my parents want me sleeping over over every night."  
  
Fai winces.   
  
"It's not so much about you," the boy says. "They say I have to focus on schoolwork and all that. And I can't keep missing breakfast with them."  
  
It still sits awkwardly in his stomach, and Fai can't shake the nauseating feeling of being unwanted. It lingers when he drags the boy into his bed, creeps along the edges of his mind when they shower, and Youou gets dressed.  
  
He pulls on a smile when he sees the boy off.  
  
When he finally curls into sweat-damp sheets, Fai feels awfully hollow, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.  
  
  
  
  
"Look," he says the next morning. "It has nothing to do with you. They have every right to see their child. You aren't even dating him yet."  
  
But it still feels sickening, when he thinks about how the Suwas would probably rather him not see the boy at all. It had not occurred to him on the morning of their meeting, but the more Fai thinks about it, the more he's certain that Youou's parents are disgusted with him.   
  
Protecting him from illnesses is one thing. Welcoming this potential relationship is another. Fai is just so  _old_. He has nothing of value to the boy.  
  
Fai feels like crap the entire time he gets ready for work. He doesn't even mean what he says when he tells the mirror how much he accepts himself.   
  
Youou sends him a few messages, all unanswered, and Fai tries to pretend that he's not in a weird, complicated relationship with the kid next door. He does draw a quick sketch to distract the boy, though, and slips away before he meets any of his neighbors.  
  
  
  
  
He receives more messages through the day. Youou begins to ask if it's because of the night before, and Fai has nothing to say to that. He starts to think he should continue with the plan to move out.   
  
Really, the only way out of this is to break everything off with the boy. Except he can't. Youou is his safe place now, one he's kind of addicted to, that he really needs.  
  
If the boy's parents hate him, well. Fai is familiar with not being wanted. It involves removing himself before it gets worse.  
  
  
  
  
Fai's mind is a terrible place to live in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drawing was done by my [incredibly talented sis](http://futabi.deviantart.com/), who also [drew FWR in a bra.](https://www.instagram.com/p/BANGINJTLN1/?taken-by=thesugarpowered) I can't draw faces for nuts. Apologies for previous ugly faces. 
> 
> Final chapter will be posted next week, and then it'll be the Piffle arc after that :) Sorry about Fai's incredible indecision and everything - he is really a walking trigger warning lol.


	10. Healing

  
He gets a volley of messages on his phone when he reaches home.   
  
_Hey_ , Youou says.  _You're still alive, right?_   
  
When Fai doesn't answer, he adds,  _Please tell me you aren't doing something stupid to yourself._  Then,  _You're important to me. My parents like you. This is about them, isn't it._  
  
Fai doesn't want to think about it. It makes him sick to his stomach.   
  
Instead, he sets his phone on the couch and retreats to his study, where he fills the inked drawing in with colors. He can't decide if he likes the drawing better with blue and gold, but he has a scan of the line art without them, just in case.   
  
The doorbell rings.  
  
Fai winces, glances at the time. It's not even eleven yet. He should just ignore the boy, but. He can't. He needs a hug, and Yuui isn't there to give him one.  
  
He doesn't even pick his phone up when he goes to pull the door open. Youou is frowning at him, all over again, and Fai sighs. "You shouldn't be here."  
  
"Just wanted to see if you're still around. Tch." The boy steps in, shuts the door, and Fai just stands there, unable to move. "You don't look like crap yet, but you're getting there."  
  
It feels as though his lungs are collapsing.   
  
Something must have shown on his face, because the boy sighs and yanks him into a tight hug. "Look, I don't mean you look bad. I meant it doesn't look like you're not taking care of yourself yet."  
  
His face crumples. Fai hides it in that broad shoulder, nudging his glasses up so his eyes press against soft fabric. "I'm an idiot," he says, while his voice is still steady. "Why do you even put up with this?"  
  
It feels like everything he's read in that book has just gone flying out the window.   
  
"I like you, you idiot," the boy mutters. "I don't want to see you remain this... this person who hates himself. You're better than that."  
  
Fai wails. It sounds twisted and awful to his ears. He bites on his lip so it doesn't escape his mouth, that ugly sound, but it goes on for a long time.  
  
When he quiets, Youou brings him to the couch and sits him down, and he can't look at anyone right now. "I'm just so—"  
  
A large hand goes over his mouth. "I don't want to hear you say things like that about yourself," the boy says. "What happened to the stuff you read in the book?"  
  
He shakes his head.  
  
Youou blows out a sigh. "You have to believe me when I say my Ma and Dad don't hate you."  
  
It takes several tries before Fai can speak again. "You don't know what it's like when"—his breath hitches—"when everyone hates you."  
  
"Something like that's just in your mind, isn't it?"  
  
He shakes his head. "You have a family who loves you, so you don't know. Yuui and I... we were kind of... alone. People didn't really... like us. You can tell. It shows after a while."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"Yeah." Fai shrugs weakly. "It's not something you can fix."  
  
"You ever... seen a therapist?"  
  
He shrugs again.  
  
"I had one," the boy says, and Fai blinks up at him, eyes scratchy. He didn't know that.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah." Youou looks away. "My Ma almost died three times. I was scared and really pissed. I was beating up people for the smallest things. Just— Just because I could, I guess. I couldn't deal."  
  
"It helped? The therapy?"  
  
Youou nods. "Yeah. Took a while, but eventually I calmed down."  
  
Fai swallows. "Okay."  
  
"So maybe you might want to see one. Or I can introduce you to the one I had. She's not bad."  
  
"I'll... keep it in mind," he says, brittle.   
  
"It's a clinic in the middle of town. Her name is Sonomi Daidouji. You can probably look her up online."  
  
"Okay."  
  
They fall into silence, Fai leaning into the boy, listening to his breathing.   
  
"This should really be the other way around," he says after some time. "Me comforting you."  
  
"Yeah, well. We've been over this."  
  
"So I owe you extra favors." It makes his mouth twitch.   
  
Coppery eyes slide over to him, and Fai looks away. "I can talk to my Ma, if you want. She'll probably understand."  
  
"I— I don't know." Fai grimaces. "I still can't face your parents. Even if they don't hate me."  
  
"They don't. But to be honest, if you tell them we're sleeping together, they'll probably say 'okay' and move on."  
  
He winces. "That's kind of hard to believe."  
  
"You'll see when you actually do it. But maybe you need to talk to a therapist first."  
  
Therapy really isn't a bad idea. For one, it gives him an excuse to stay on longer. If it doesn't help, he'll move out... but he'll stay if he can.   
  
Fai isn't looking at the boy when he mumbles, "I kind of like you. A lot."  
  
From the corner of his eye, he sees Youou's face bursting aflame. "Oh."  
  
He doesn't have anything to say. He wishes they could stay like this forever, though. Safe, and comfortable.   
  
Youou doesn't ask when he leans over and kisses Fai on the cheek. Then, his mouth.   
  
Fai kisses back.   
  
When they finally stop, he can't help asking, "so did you kiss your mom in the end?"  
  
"Tch. Yes. No thanks to you." The boy rolls his eyes, and Fai smiles a little easier.   
  
"Maybe washing your mouth with soap will help," he says.  
  
"Why don't  _you_  wash your mouth with soap." The boy harrumphs, folds his arms, and looks away.  
  
"Because I'm only kissing you? And no one else."  
  
"So we're kind of seeing each other exclusively, huh?"   
  
Fai blinks. And blinks several more times. "Oh."  
  
Youou shrugs. "Still not dating."  
  
"Yeah, no. This isn't a date," Fai says.   
  
"Want to go on one?" The boy looks over hopefully, and Fai frowns at him.  
  
"I've still not... decided yet."  
  
"Or, when's your birthday? We could go to the mall and... get you something."  
  
"I don't need anything," Fai protests.  
  
"Fine. But when's your birthday?"  
  
He doesn't bat an eyelid when he answers, "last week."  
  
"What."   
  
Fai shrugs, and Youou leans in, brow crinkled.   
  
Accusingly, "you didn't tell me."  
  
"I don't celebrate it." The boy looks more puzzled than ever, and Fai sighs. "Half of me is missing. How do I celebrate like that?"  
  
"Oh.  _Oh._  Sorry. Damn it. I didn't think—"   
  
Fai kisses him, cracks a smile when he pulls away. "It's okay. I don't expect you to think of that. You're adorable."  
  
The boy flushes again, casts around for a different topic. "What were you doing when you ignored my texts?"  
  
"I worked on the drawing. Do you want to see it?"   
  
Youou nods, so Fai gets to his feet and pads to the study, where the computer hums without music and half a dozen markers are crowded around the unfinished piece.   
  
"It looks good," the boy says. "What're you going to do with it when it's done?"  
  
"I don't know. Haven't decided."  
  
"Framing it? Seems a pity if you don't put it somewhere safe."  
  
"In an album, I suppose." It seems... wrong, perhaps, to let himself keep looking at the drawing. Maybe he'd think it real if he sees it too often. "We'll see."  
  
"Okay." Youou looks around the room, and his gaze lands on the rack of markers next to the desk. "I didn't know which ones you had, when I got you those. Did you already have those colors?"  
  
Fai smiles, shakes his head. "I did not. Guess you got lucky."  
  
The boy grins at him. Fai feels a flutter beginning in his stomach.   
  
"Did you— Have you— drawn us?" Youou's eyes flicker towards him and away, and he is so deeply embarrassed that Fai wants to hug him and never let go. Instead, he nods, reaches for a stack of papers, where he's shoved sketches that he rarely lets himself see.   
  
Then, because they're already too familiar with each other, Fai hands him another stack, the ones he did when his imagination wandered. "You're not bringing any of these home with you."  
  
Youou's mouth falls open when he really looks at the drawings, and his eyes grow wide. "Wow."  
  
Fai shrugs, tidies his things while Youou flips through the pages, lingering on the drawings for far longer than he's anticipated. They are just sketches, so some of their anatomies aren't at their best. It still is testament to the time he's spent thinking about all that, though, that the drawings add up to a thick sheath of paper.   
  
"Do you really want to try all these?" Youou asks, waving the papers at him.   
  
Fai chuckles. "Um. I didn't— I didn't draw them with the intention of actually doing them."  
  
"You never told me that you drew us." The boy is back to looking at the pictures, and Fai has to turn away when he gets to a page that is mortifyingly explicit.   
  
"Um. Maybe you shouldn't be looking at those," he mumbles, heat surging up his cheeks.   
  
"Were you jerking off when you drew these?" Youou flicks a glance at him. "The lines are—"  
  
"Are kind of horribly crooked. Yes." There are lines on those drawings that have gone off, lines that end on a dark point when the pencil lead snapped, and half-finished drawings that he never returned to the moment he was done with himself.  
  
Fai turns to his bookshelves to rearrange books that don't need to be rearranged. He pulls some of the older programming books out, thinking to store them elsewhere to make space for newer books, and looks for something else to focus his attention on. Those pictures are really kind of embarrassing.  
  
There's a rustle when Youou sets the stack of papers down. He doesn't say anything, though, and Fai gasps when the boy comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist.   
  
"I like the drawings," he mutters, his voice rich and low. Fai can't help the rush of heat that sweeps down his spine when Youou presses against his ass, a distinct bulge in his pants.  
  
"Oh," he says, breathless, fingers curling into the glossy cover of  _Learning Python_ . "They— They aren't really my best work. Mostly it's— it's just pencil sketches and— Oh, god."  
  
Youou's mouth is on his neck, one hand slipping into his pants, and Fai groans.  
  
They run out of space in his pants, when the boy strokes firm fingers along him and he stops thinking. His hips roll forward. Youou pulls him back, grinds into him.  
  
It's a relief when his pants are unzipped. The boy pulls him out, strokes him slow, looking over his shoulder, and Fai's brain blanks out. He reaches behind for the boy, fumbles with his clothes, whimpers when he gets his hands on raw, straining flesh, warm and hard and leaking wet onto his fingers.   
  
Youou's breath hitches when Fai pumps along him. He pushes closer, and Fai releases him momentarily, lets him grind into the small of his back, and the needy moan that slips from his throat is one that has Youou's hands pushing at his pants, slipping them far enough to barely expose his ass.   
  
His cock grinds solid into the cleft of his ass, and Fai whimpers at the thickness of it, arching his spine so he  _shoves_  firmly at the boy.   
  
Youou hisses, drags his cock up along his crack, then changes the angle and grinds down along his entrance, all the way to his balls. Fai shudders.  
  
"Want you inside," he gasps, nails scrabbling at his bookshelf. "Bedroom."  
  
They don't even undress. He falls onto the bed on all fours; Youou grabs the lube and slicks his fingers. He tries to go slow. Fai hurries him through the stretching, jerking when those fingers curl exquisitely inside him, and when the boy finally slides home, the slight burn isn't enough to stop him from moaning aloud.   
  
He begs the boy to thrust harder. Youou's breathing is ragged above him—he's still not used to being inside, yet—and Fai's back arches every time the boy drives into him, filling him completely.   
  
He comes after barely touching himself, spilling all across the sheets, and Youou's release is one that comes with a broken groan and fingers curled bruisingly hard into Fai's hips.   
  
They shower after hanging their clothes up to air. Fai raids his fridge for a snack. Youou settles on the floor opposite like a surly guard dog.  
  
"Want a grilled cheese sandwich?" Fai looks over his shoulder at the boy. "Oh, wait. No cheese for you. Some kind of sandwich?"  
  
Youou scans the fridge contents. "Eggs?"  
  
"That'll do."   
  
Fai fries up some eggs, slathers mayo on the sandwiches, and adds cheese to his own. When he's done, he joins the boy on the floor, eating off his knees.   
  
"You prefer eating on the floor like an uncivilized animal?" Fai says, nudging Youou.  
  
"This is fine." The boy shrugs. Then he grins and adds, "can't do this at home."  
  
Fai snickers. "What else can you not do at home?"  
  
Youou thinks for a bit. "Not much else that I want to do, actually. Sex?"  
  
"That'd be really awkward." Fai cringes. "Singing in the shower?"  
  
The boy rolls his eyes. "I'll do that at home  _without_  you in the shower."  
  
Fai pouts. "Oh, come on."  
  
"No."  
  
"I've already shown you my embarrassing drawings."  
  
"Those aren't embarrassing. They're kind of hot." Youou sends him a meaningful glance. Fai scrunches his face up, blushes.  
  
"It's still embarrassing to me. Until recently, they were my deepest, darkest secret, or something."  
  
"I liked them."   
  
"Well. I know that now."   
  
"Can I have one? One of the safe ones."   
  
"Sure. I don't see why not."   
  
They head back to the study when the plates are in the sink. Youou flips through the drawings again; Fai presses close to his side, more for the heat than any real interest in those sketches. He has Youou now. Sort of. It's not like they're dating or anything, but what they have right now is nice.   
  
The boy ends up picking a page with a series of kisses and nuzzles, one that Fai drew on a whim. Fai checks to make sure there's nothing incriminating on the back.   
  
"What're you going to do with it?" he asks, when he hands the sheet over.  
  
Youou shrugs. He folds it carefully up, making sure the sketches fall between the creases. "I don't know."  
  
"You aren't going to put it on your wall, are you?" Fai grimaces. "I'm not sure about your parents seeing it."  
  
The boy shakes his head. "No. It's... personal."  
  
Youou smiles then, a private, little grin that has Fai smiling along.   
  
"I have a box of things," Youou says. "Things I want to remember."  
  
Fai blushes. He has nothing to say to that, but he doesn't miss the importance of those words. His heart is beating too fervently for him to think. "Um."  
  
The boy leans in, presses a kiss to his lips, and Fai is almost too overwhelmed to do anything but return it.   
  
"I don't think I deserve you," he whispers after. "You're just... so good."  
  
"I'm not all that great," Youou says. "I've hurt people."   
  
"Care to share?" Fai snuggles closer, breathing in the boy's musky skin.  
  
Youou remains quiet for a while. When he speaks, his tone is quiet, and his eyes have cut away. "All sorts of people. Younger kids. My classmates. Even some older guys. I almost threw my Dad into a wall. Then there's you."  
  
"I'm fine," Fai says. "Did they get better? Those people you hurt?"  
  
The boy shrugs. "Mostly. I broke a classmate's arm. My Dad... he has a scar."   
  
Fai winces. "Oh."  
  
"So the therapy helped. It took a while, but I learned to control my anger. Mostly. I shouldn't have hurt you."  
  
"I'm fine," he says again, pressing a kiss to Youou's shoulder. "It was just a bump."  
  
They're in towels, right now, and Fai glimpses the boy's back. The welts from his nails have disappeared, by now, leaving the dark red of scabbed lines. He traces his finger along one of them, pausing when he reaches bright, raw skin.  
  
"You've been picking at your scabs?"  
  
"They're itchy." The boy frowns. "I can't help it."  
  
"If you pick at them more, they're going to stay there forever. And then your parents will start asking why, wouldn't they?"  
  
Youou lifts his shoulders. "They're from you. And it wasn't like you were angry or anything."  
  
"Well. Um." Fai blushes. "It was good. I should... try not to do that in the future."  
  
The boy smirks, pleased. "There'll be more times?"   
  
"I, um, I guess. No promises." But he can't hide that he'd thoroughly enjoyed when it happened, and Youou knows. He's received further proof, tonight.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"But it's probably your bedtime now," Fai says, glancing at the clock. "I'm not going to keep you up."  
  
"You did," Youou mutters, and they flush at the same time.   
  
Fai sighs. He plants his hands on the boy's shoulders, turns him around, and pushes him back to the bedroom, where their clothes are. "Time for you to go home. I'll see you again tomorrow. Or something."  
  
"Okay."  
  
They stop to share a kiss at the front door. Youou presses his forehead to Fai's, and everything about his face is blurry from this distance.   
  
"Sleep well," he says. "I'll text you."  
  
"I hope you aren't busting your text limit," Fai tells him.  
  
"'M not."   
  
The boy kisses him again, and Fai feels strangely empty when he shuts the door.   
  
  
  
  
He looks up Sonomi Daidouji's clinic at work the next day and makes an appointment.  
  
  
  
  
A couple days later, Youou hands him a plastic bag with two markers in it. Fai frowns. "I told you not to spend more money on me," he says. "Those are expensive."  
  
"I care more about whether you've got those colors," the boy says. "You probably don't want a birthday present, so this is a 'thanks for taking me to the mall for my birthday' present."  
  
Fai hugs him. "Brat," he murmurs, far too fond. "Thank you."   
  
Youou pulls him closer. "Do you have those colors, then? I never know which you really want. But you don't seem to have many of those."  
  
The new markers are red and grey. "I have this," he says, holding the grey up. "But I could always bring it to work."  
  
The boy frowns. Fai stands on the balls of his feet to kiss it away.  
  
"At some point, you're going to be so tall that I can't even do this on tiptoe," he says.  
  
"If it means you're staying, I don't see why not," Youou says.  
  
Fai shrugs, smiles, turns to the kitchen. "I have dates for you."  
  
"Dates?"   
  
Youou follows him, an eager puppy at his heels. Fai grabs a little plastic tub off the counter and pats it into the boy's surprised hand. "See, dates."  
  
Youou's face scrunches up.  _Pitted Dates,_  shouts a sticker on the lid, across several little brown ovals. "That's not what I wanted."  
  
"Come on, I thought you might find it funny." Fai pouts. He shuffles close to nudge the boy, and adds, "at least try one."  
  
The boy does, and he grimaces immediately. "That's way too fucking sweet."  
  
Fai hands him a glass of water. "I like dates," he says. "Leave them here if you don't want them."  
  
Youou sets the box back down on the counter. "Ma saw my back last night. After I got back."  
  
"She saw your  _back?_ " Fai almost chokes on a date. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"  
  
His insides shrivel into tiny hard lumps. Filed down, his nails had not left bloody scratches, but they had been enough to mark the boy's skin with pink all the same. They would have been gone by morning. Fai covers his face and groans.   
  
"I didn't want you to hear it alone," Youou says. He slips his hand into Fai's, grounding him.  
  
"What did she say." Fai doesn't want to hear the answer at all.  
  
The boy shrugs uncomfortably. "Not much. She just looked really amused."  
  
Fai considers dying. Or something. "How— Wasn't she asleep? You got home late. She shouldn't have been—"  
  
"I was changing shirts in my room. She was there when I turned around."  
  
"I can't even fault you for leaving your door open. Your back kind of says a lot."  
  
"So did the hickeys."   
  
"Those hickeys were just neck kisses," Fai moans, rocking on his feet. "What else can we be possibly be doing if I left scratches on your back?"  
  
"Humping?"  
  
"Still kind of too explicit a mental image, don't you think?"   
  
"Maybe she didn't think about it enough to form a mental image. Tch." Youou taps him on the head. "'S long as Dad isn't still on the safe sex jokes, I'm good."  
  
"Those were horrifying," Fai says. "I still can't face your parents."  
  
"Then don't. Go to therapy first."   
  
He calms at that, with a new topic to latch onto. "About that. I made an appointment with Dr Daidouji's clinic."  
  
Youou perks up. "Good."  
  
"I think it'll take a while, though." Fai sighs, leans bodily into the boy. His fingers curl into Youou's shirt, and he breathes in deep, filling his lungs with every bit of that musky scent. "Mm. Soccer practice today?"  
  
"More like I had to jog home from the hobby store," Youou says. "It was late by the time I got there."  
  
"Thank you," Fai says. "On the bright side, you smell delicious. I want to eat you."  
  
Youou's tone drops. "How?"  
  
His eyes darken, and Fai's throat is suddenly dry. He tilts his head, drags the tip of his tongue up the salt-sharp skin of Youou's throat. The boy gulps.  
  
"Right here," Fai whispers. "I want you right here."  
  
  
  
  
The therapist sees him a week later. Sonomi Daidouji is a friendly woman, kind and calm. Her office is cozy. Fai tells her that Youou Suwa was the one who recommended her, and her eyes brighten with recognition.  
  
"How is Youou?" she asks.  
  
"Good," he says. "Better than I am."  
  
Which isn't saying much, really, considering how very messed-up he is.  
  
They start off with Fai talking about himself.   
  
"I'm sleeping with Youou," he says, wincing. He's prepared for Dr Daidouji to frown, but she doesn't. "That's essentially why I'm here."  
  
He tells her about his fear of the boy's parents, he tells her about his relationship with the boy, as honestly as he can, and he tells her briefly about his past. She nods and listens, and probes him for details about his family. Fai chokes up about Yuui once or twice. He tells her about Mrs Suwa's surgery, and provoking Youou into violence.  
  
"Which was probably stupid of me to, in hindsight," he says. "But I was trying so hard to chase him away."  
  
"Neither of you were injured," Dr Daidouji points out. "I think that's something to remember."  
  
He tells her about reading the book on self-esteem, and talking to Yuui. He tells her about the Suwas' emphasis on safe sex and the jokes that make him briefly consider dying. He tells her about Youou giving him markers and asking for dates. He tells her about his crush.  
  
In the end, the first session is really just a detailed explanation of all the things Fai has done wrong.  
  
"I believe that you are capable, kind and intelligent," Dr Daidouji says. "But what I'd like is for you to believe it, too."  
  
She reminds him that the boy's interest is not something he should reject so readily. She gives him a new set of exercises: listing down negative things about himself, then writing next to them facts to prove those statements wrong. She tells him to keep reading the book and continue with its exercises, too.  
  
Dr Daidouji tells him what they'll be doing if he decides to continue the sessions. Fai nods and says he'll be back.   
  
"I thought you might be disgusted by my— relationship with Youou," he says before he leaves, breath catching.  
  
She shakes her head.   
  
"I'm here to help, not judge you," she answers. He feels some of the heaviness rolling off his chest. "And I believe that your relationship with Youou will be good for you."  
  
It's nice to have someone else who doesn't hate him. Fai smiles tremulously at his therapist, grasping her hand. "Thank you."  
  
"Take care," she says. "I hope to see you again next week."  
  
  
  
  
Youou stays over that night and hugs him to sleep.  
  
Fai sleeps a lot better for it.  
  
  
  
  
They talk about improving his self-esteem in the second session. In the third, Dr Daidouji initiates a discussion on relationships.   
  
Slowly, Fai learns to believe that he could be good for the boy— the young man that is every bit his own person.   
  
He bumps into Mr and Mrs Suwa a few times between the therapy sessions. They're polite and friendly every time, and Fai blurts that he's seeing Youou, one day.  
  
Mr Suwa tells him it's all good, and claps him on the shoulder. Mrs Suwa smiles and says they'd love to have him over for dinner again.  
  
All Fai can feel is stark relief when he steps out of the elevator and into his own apartment.  
  
When he tells Youou about the conversation, Youou's mouth twitches, and he leans forward and kisses Fai tenderly.  
  
"I'm proud of you," he says.  
  
Fai's heart is too small to contain everything that Youou makes him feel.  
  
  
  
  
It's on a late weekend afternoon, when Youou is rearranging Fai's marker rack according to numbers and colors, that Fai realizes how deeply he cares.  
  
It's a little scary, when he thinks about it. Fai hasn't given so much of his heart to another person since Yuui.   
  
"Hey," he says, breathless. "Youou."   
  
Youou turns at the mention of his name—Fai doesn't use it very often at all. His heart quickens.  
  
"I think I— I just realized— I— I love you."   
  
Youou drops a marker.   
  
Fai licks his lips, nervous. "Yeah."  
  
Red eyes blink, and Youou straightens. "Really?"  
  
"Yes," Fai says, "and it's okay if you don't feel the same—"  
  
"Idiot." Youou sets the rest of his markers down, getting to his feet to pull him into a hug. "Took you long enough."  
  
"You mean—"  
  
"Yes. Tch."  
  
Fai huffs a weak chuckle, sagging into Youou. "Oh. We— we haven't even gone on a date yet."  
  
"Are you going to agree to a date now?"   
  
"I guess," Fai says. "It's not like I can keep putting it off."  
  
"What about dinner with my parents?"  
  
"Oh, you." He whacks Youou lightly on the arm. "One step at a time. Dates first. Then we'll talk about dinner."  
  
Youou barks a laugh and leans in to nuzzle at his ear. "Fine. Not like I haven't been waiting forever."   
  
"It's just been months," Fai protests. "Brat."  
  
Youou nips his earlobe. He yelps, reaches out to grab his ass.   
  
"Hey!" Youou says. Fai kisses him on the nose.  
  
Youou presses a kiss to his mouth, and they get sidetracked for a while. 

  
  
"Make me a snack," Youou says when they're climbing to their feet, disheveled and sweaty. Fai frowns; the boy snorts. "Kidding. I'll raid your fridge."  
  
They drag themselves to the kitchen.  
  
"Maybe we should do that," Fai says. "Cook something together. Then we'll invite your parents over for dinner."  
  
"Not a bad idea."  
  
Fai watches from the counter as Youou rummages around his fridge, pants hanging loose around his hips. "I hope your parents go on more dates," he says. "This is kind of nice."  
  
"You think?" Youou grins over his shoulder, and Fai wanders over, rubbing his fingers lightly over Youou's neck.   
  
"Someday... do you think you'll want to move in with me? When you're old enough."  
  
"Yeah. You don't have to ask. We'll have to go on dates first, though."  
  
He laughs, pulls Youou up for another kiss. "Okay. We can do that." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo... yeah. I hope the ending was not too rushed or anything... When I wrote this, I spent half the fic telling them to get together already, but Fai just wasn't having any of it. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope you've enjoyed the ride! (angsty as it is) Thank you for staying with me these past ten weeks, and thank you for all the kind comments, kudos and bookmarks :) If there are any issues or mistakes/etc, feel free to point them out :)
> 
> Piffle is up next week - I'm on chapter 8/ 50k words at the moment, which is amazing 'cause I have been struggling with motivation for the arc after writing >1000x no.... the pace/writing style/etc is kind of a shock after 50k words of this fic. 
> 
> ANYHOW - thoughts on this fic? :) It is... (surprise) actually a fic about healing (sort of).. I hesitate to label it Hurt/Comfort because wow there is a lot of hurt going on. LOL Hopefully, the funny moments were enough to help buoy it up some. ;) Thank you for reading, and follow [my tumblr](http://invisible-as-i-run.tumblr.com) for more updates!

**Author's Note:**

>  _Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star_  
>  _One without a permanent scar?_  
>  _And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_  
>  \-- Drops of Jupiter, Train
> 
> Thoughts? Comments? Love it? Hate it?


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